Black Debt
by sick-atxxheart
Summary: Harry is trapped in his mind by a curse and Snape fights to save him. They become friends, but Harry is broken in more ways than one and the final battle is coming. When Harry is broken, can love in more ways than one- friendship and romance- be enough?
1. Prologue

_The Firebolt never seemed to be fast enough. Harry twisted and turned through the air, as fast as he possibly could, to avoid the rampage of Death Eaters that were following him, closer, closer by each passing second. Harry didn't even know how he got into the hopeless situation; but now he was alone, and most surely he would be captured. If he was captured, the only logical thought was that he surely would die._

__

Harry twisted his body to look behind him. Panic filled him, and for a few fleeting seconds he thought about those he loved. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the whole Weasley family... He had let them down; he had failed. Everything they had ever worked for was being swept away by his stupid, selfish mistake.

Harry looked back again. The Death Eaters were gaining on him, and he knew that evasion could only last so long. They had been aiming curses at him for what seemed to be an eternity, but Harry's past as a Quidditch Seeker had given him the edge.

_Then, as Harry looked back once more, he found himself unable to move as the dark blue curse shot from a Death Eater's wand. In the back of his mind, he registered to himself that the Death Eater was __Severus Snape__. But it didn't matter. The curse had hit him. He would die._

__

For a moment everything was suspended. Harry was unable to move, but still the world around him rushed by in a mixture of color and sound.

And then pain.

Harry was falling, and it didn't matter. He was going to die; if not from the fall, then from the excruciating pain that ripped through his body and left him screaming, screaming for it to stop, for it to be over- Harry couldn't handle it, he couldn't-

_And then, everything dissolved slowly into black. Harry felt nothing._

_--_

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	2. Chapter One

Harry lay on the cool ground, enjoying the feel of nothing. Everything hurt, but he didn't care. He was dead, wasn't he? So why should it matter? All he felt was a memory of a curse, a memory of a fall, a memory of pain, and now the memory of laying there, in nothing.

Harry felt someone walk over him, and he knew it must be a dream. His whole body felt to be covered in a veil, as if invisible. He felt himself slip away, and he wondered what was happening. He_was_ dead, wasn't he? He had to be…

--

"_What was the spell?_" The high voice hissed, red eyes gleaming. "What _was_ the spell, Severus?" Anger and contempt were evident in the voice.

"The Mirren Incantem, my Lord," the pale-faced man said softly. "If he is not dead already, he will be soon."

The man with the red eyes sat still for a moment, as if contemplating. "Very well," he finally spoke. "You have done well, Severus."

As Severus walked away slowly, his mind was full of regret. He had _never_ meant for that spell to truly hit Harry.

But it had. He had to save Harry, even if he hated him.

--

Severus walked through the dead of the night, looking for Harry. As soon as the curse had hit the boy, Severus had whispered words that would make his body invisible; there was still a chance that he would still be alive.

Coming upon the body, Severus whispered another word and Harry's body became visible. It truly was a disgusting sight; the boy was covered with cuts and bruises, and his body was twisted in a way that it obviously shouldn't be twisted. Severus wondered if the fall itself had killed Harry before the spell had tried to.

A quick diagnostic spell told Severus that Harry was alive, but in bad condition. He had already slipped into unconsciousness, his mind a blur. When Severus tried to probe Harry's mind with Llegimency, he found the mind to be blocked in a barrier of the boy's pain.

Severus sighed. The spell had already taken affect.

For the first time in his life, Severus cared about Harry. Because the boy would surely die if Severus didn't assist him. Severus was the only one strong enough, and he was the only one who truly knew how to break the mind.

After all, he had had to break his own so many years ago.

--

Severus scooped up unconscious, broken body and immediately Apparated. The sensation was familiar to him, but afterwards when he looked down at Harry he saw that the boy's face was twisted in a grimace. This was a good sign; it meant Harry was still able to react to outside touches and things like that.

The castle of Hogwarts rose above Severus, and he immediately climbed the many steps that led up to the castle. Moving as quickly as he could, he said the password to enter the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore's, office.

"Severus!" Dumbledore sounded surprised as he searched the young man's face. When he saw Harry, he gasped. "What happened?"

"An unfortunate effect of an attack from the Dark Lord," Severus spat out; as smart as Dumbledore was, he truly was stupid sometimes. "It turns out your protection was more breakable than you thought."

Dumbledore's eyes clouded over, and he said quietly, "Is he dead?"

"Not yet," Severus responded, looking down at the boy in his arms, who was so close to the line between life and death. "If we don't do anything, he will be. The spell, the Mirren Incantem, causes the mind to close up and withdraw into itself. Everything in the person's life is replayed, as if in a dream; but eventually, the pressure becomes too much, and the mind can't take it anymore. No one is sure, medically, what really happens, but it looks like everything turns off."

A moment of silence passed; finally, Dumbledore rose and led Severus out of his office. "This way, Severus," he said as they walked quickly down the corridors of the castle. "Tell me what we have to do."

--

**A/N: There you have it, what truly happened to Harry. There will be more action next chapter, because it will be inside Harry's mind. Please review! They make me do happy little dances! Thanks!**


	3. Chapter Two

Harry was taken to Severus' personal quarters. There was nothing Madam Pomfrey could do that Severus' couldn't, and both he and Dumbledore thought it best that almost no one be informed of Harry's condition. It was indeed serious, and whether he would live or die was still a mystery, one that Severus wasn't excited to explore.

A bed was conjured and the boy was placed upon it. "What do we have to do, Severus?"

Severus shook his head quickly, almost as if to clear it of the thoughts that were trying to invade. "First, we have to get into his mind," he began. "You try, Albus; you're just a good of Llegimens as I am."

The older man smiled a bit, and said, "Not true, Severus," but regardless, the look in his eyes told Severus that he _was_ trying.

Dumbledore frowned. "It's blocked."

Severus nodded. "It's part of the spell. The mind is blocked by memories and pain, because everything is being relived over and over. Essentially, it is blocked by years- layers of memories that are almost like a protection, but essentially they are what could kill Harry."

"How do we get in, then?"

Severus hesitated. He really hated thinking about the spell, because it reminded him of what he had gone through so many years before. "It's pretty complicated," he said softly. "It seems like someone has to view some of the memories and try to break through layer by layer, until we can reach Harry and convince him to try and find a way out. The spell often depletes the person's will to live, because they are reliving what they hate the most and what haunts them."

"Severus," Dumbledore said softly, "You're going to have to do it, but please, be careful. You know Harry has gone through a lot more than the rest of us, and it will no doubt be immensely difficult for him to handle this. He is strong, but I don't know if he is strong enough for this."

Severus wanted to scream at the man with the twinkling eyes and the too-long beard. Severus had had a hard life too, and he had gone through the exact same thing! If he could survive, and get out on his _own, _without _any_ help, the Potter brat should be able to survive!

But Severus couldn't deny that Harry had been through a lot, and he guessed that there was also more than anyone had ever known. He wouldn't share his suspicions with Dumbledore, but Severus was almost afraid. He had never had an immensely good history with Harry- in fact, it had been one plagued by hate and misunderstanding- but he was, after all, Lily's son. And Severus couldn't not help him, just for that simple fact.

But there was one thing that Severus had to share. "You're aware that Harry might not make it?" He said softly. Severus couldn't deny the facts; he himself had barely made it out of his own mind alive when he had been afflicted with the spell. It was a definite possibility that Harry would die before Severus could even get to him.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I understand, my boy," He said in an equally soft voice. "But please, I beg of you; try your hardest. I know you and Harry have been at odds forever, but the world needs him. We need him. Because of the prophecy, he is the only one who can truly defeat the Dark Lord."

Severus nodded curtly; he knew about the blasted prophecy, and he didn't want to think about it. "I know, Albus, and I will try my best," he responded, "but just so you know, I am _not_ doing this for Harry. I'm doing this for Lily."

With that, Severus conjured a chair up, sat it down next to the bed, and settled himself onto it, immediately delving into Harry's mind and leaving Dumbledore behind.

--

"_No, please! Not Harry! Please, not Harry! Take me instead! Not Harry, please!" The red-haired girl screamed, holding her baby close to her with a look of extreme panic on her face. She was backing up in a hopeless attempt to protect herself and her baby._

"_Stand aside, you stupid girl!" The man with the hood spoke in a cold, high voice, pointing a wand at the young girl. _

"_Not Harry!"_

"_Avada Kedavra…" A jet of green light filled the room, and the girl fell as her screams died away. The baby laughed as he fell and landed on the floor. When the wand turned on him, the laughter died and the baby stared up at the man with the same green eyes his mother had had…_

--

Severus shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the horrible memory that had just shown in Harry's mind. Lily's death. That was hard to watch; Severus could only imagine what it would have been like for Harry.

He was in a dark place, which he knew to be Harry's mind. His body was outside, but he himself, his soul, his thoughts, his mind, was inside Harry's mind. A layer of silver, which he knew to be memories, surrounded him.

If all the memories were like the last one, this was going to be harder than he thought.

--

TBC…

**Sorry for the wait. I hope you liked this. Please review. **


	4. Chapter Three

Severus sighed. It seemed like he had been going through memories forever, and in truth he had only worked through two years in the layers of Harry's mind. Harry's memories started with his baby years and worked up to where he was now at sixteen, and Severus dreaded looking through the coming years. He had never liked Potter, why in the _world_ would he like looking though the brat's life and seeing how he lived? In truth, it almost seemed to be a form of torture. It was as if Severus' worst nightmare was revealed- he might begin to _sympathize_ with Harry Potter! Impossible, it seemed.

Severus withdrew from Harry's mind for a break. He had been going at it forever, and he was tired. He knew that the wall he had made through two years of Harry's memories would remain open for just a bit, and he had to get back in Harry's mind as soon as possible. This was a tireless job.

What was scary was the fact that the whole process might fail anyways. Severus might not be fast enough, and Harry might die. Despite Severus' hatred for the boy, he was innocent and hadn't deserved _any_ of this. Compared to what Harry was going through at that very moment, Severus knew what he had to do was like a walk in the park.

Severus tried desperately not to think about the fact that _he_ had been the one to cast the spell. He hadn't meant for it to hit the boy- really, he hadn't- but it would have looked suspicious if he hadn't cast any spells at all. An unlucky swerve on the boy's part, and an unlucky aim on Severus' completed the deal, and now they were both worse off than before. It really was a bad situation.

Severus sat back for a moment and then, straightening, whispered 'Llegimens' again and dove again into the boy's mind. From what he could discover, Harry had been at his aunt and uncle's for what seemed to be a few months, and nothing seemed amiss. He continued through the memories, and he was relieved when he saw that year three of the boy's life was over. Harry could now walk and talk (a bit, anyway).

Settling down for some more viewing, Severus watched as Harry cleaned dishes. Severus found that a little unusual, but nothing horribly threatening. What was wrong with teaching young children some responsibility?

But he was more alert as he watched Harry serve his aunt, uncle, and fat cousin breakfast from a frying pan. _No child should be cooking food at such a young age, regardless of the circumstances!_Severus thought with a shudder, watching as memories flashed by.

Severus watched a four-year-old Harry be thrown, headfirst into a cupboard under the stairs. To Severus' surprise, there was a bed in the cupboard! Surely that couldn't be the boy's room…? But, sure enough, as the memory showed Harry crying quietly atop the thin mattress, Severus could see two words written messily in crayon on the wall: 'HARRY'S ROOM'.

Something wasn't right; Severus hadn't seen any memories of the boy eating yet, and the cupboard, and the cooking- all of it didn't seem to add up to anything good.

Severus watched Harry cleaning and cooking more meals, weeding the flowerbeds, and doing anything- and almost everything- else as his fat uncle yelled at him. The boy was so small, and finally, when Severus saw Harry eating, it was leftovers from a meal- a few pieces of meat and a bit of potato. That wasn't enough for a meal, let alone a day, let alone any more than that!

The treatment continued for the whole year, and Severus sighed when he was released from year four. Why did Potter always have to be the good boy? He always had an excuse.

But no matter what Severus thought, he couldn't deny that something was off in Harry's past. He had expected Harry to have grown up a pampered little brat, with everything he wanted and all the love in the world. But he was quickly being proved wrong. The boy had been treated with disrespect and contempt, and he obviously had suffered poor treatment and malnutrition for the better part of his childhood.

Severus didn't even want to think it, but he couldn't help but wonder if abuse would come into play.

--

**TBC…**

**Miserably short, but it was important. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review.**


	5. Chapter Four

Severus sat in the same chair, miserable, because everything he had ever known and believed had been shattered. He had thought that his curse would go awry; it hadn't. He had thought that Potter was a pampered little boy; he wasn't. He had thought that he could be the savior- and now, in a moment of insecurity, he wasn't sure he could.

Watching the memories was like reading a storybook in slow motion. Not only do you get the characters, and the plot, but you also see the feelings and the pain that the characters are experiencing. It was kind of bothersome for Severus; he had never really thought about what any one else was feeling, much less Harry Potter. But now- seeing the boy's memories- he felt _sorry_ for him, and he felt ashamed that no one had seen fit to check up on the boy at such a tender young age.

And what was more, Severus felt like he was letting Lily down. He had promised to take care of Harry, promised to watch over him if anything should happen; but the weight of that promise on Severus' heart had been dulled by years of remembering James Potter- James Potter, the one who seemingly tortured Severus through years of school. Severus hadn't been able to get past Harry's resemblance to his father.

Now, it seemed, the more Severus thought about it, Harry was nothing like his father. He just hadn't been able to see it.

--

Year four was much the same, and Severus was relived to see that he wasn't being forced to watch anything more disconcerting than that. Harry was forced to cook, and clean, and take care of the house, in a much more thorough way than any child should be forced to. Severus remembered his childhood briefly for the quickest second before shaking his head to get rid of those thoughts- he had been forced to do much the same, and it seemed that he and Harry were more similar than he thought. They had both been cursed with horrible guardians. Severus wondered how Harry had gotten so easily through all the years, no doubt keeping his 'slavery' to his family a secret- then again, Severus thought, he probably hadn't gotten through easily; no one ever does. It is just a matter of inner strength, of being able to live with the memory living on your shoulder. From personal experience, Severus could admit it wasn't easy.

Again Severus was relieved when year five turned out to be the same, mostly. Harry was getting 'older', obviously, and he was being forced to do more work. More of the cooking rested on his shoulders; he weeded gardens and painted various things; and he did whatever else his aunt, uncle, and fat cousin asked him to at any given time. He wasn't fed much, but he was a quick boy, and Severus knew that if his guess was right, that quickness would come in handy later.

Severus proved himself right as he entered year six, and a few slaps from Harry's family weren't uncommon when the boy had angered them or done something wrong, which seemed to be often. But Severus couldn't really easily find what the boy had done wrong; perhaps an accidental cough, or a missed fleck of dirt. Little, miniscule things that any other family would have ignored completely, just for the sake of unworthiness; but not with the Dursleys. They obviously hated Harry, and nothing was getting better.

--

Severus sighed as he pulled out of Harry's mind. Did Albus Dumbledore know any of this, about how Harry was worked like a slave, practically starved, and if his suspicions were correct, abused? Most likely not. The man had a way of being completely blind sometimes. He was so brilliant, but sometimes other people's wellbeing fell below the bar in importance to Dumbledore's plan. It was a flaw in certain situations, _like this one_, Severus thought angrily.

He surprised himself by feeling almost- paternal towards the boy. _Oh, Merlin_, Severus thought to himself, rolling his eyes to the darkness of the room,_ what have I become? Loving Harry Potter?_

He quickly dismissed the thought as his exhaustion talking, but he knew he couldn't sleep. Harry's life was on the line, and for some reason, Severus knew he couldn't lose Harry.

Not only for Lily and the sake of the Wizarding world, but also for himself.

--

**Well, no more updates for at least a week, but I just got that up.**

**Please review, and also check out my other stories 'Sanctuary', 'Please, Hold Me', 'Never Again', and 'The Voldy Letters'. Thanks!**

**Review!**


	6. Chapter Five

Severus banged his head on the desk, cursing under his breath as he stared at the ever-unmoving body of Harry Potter lying before him. He had just viewed memories up to the year Harry turned ten, and the verbal, emotional, and sometimes physical abuse had increased as Harry grew up. Severus was angry to no end. He was often described as mean, rude, and hateful, but he wasn't cruel, and he would _not_ and would _never_ condone a child being abused, especially one who had already lost so much. Severus himself had experienced abuse, and it had after affects that sometimes couldn't be reversed. People could be irrevocably damaged and believe that they were worthless and different, and their attitudes could be affected by that mindset. When Severus thought on it and looked back, he saw that Harry always _had_ been quite quiet, except around his friends. He had never _really_ defied Severus' authority as elder and superior, it had mostly just been Severus' expectations that forced him to be so blind. Severus mentally slapped himself. How had anyone not noticed? Normally Severus could spot abuse or difficulties at home in a student in a heartbeat, but his feelings towards Harry had been too overshadowed by his hatred for his father to see anything despite beyond his appearance. It had been a mistake, and Severus regretted it immensely now.

Severus knew that, starting Harry's eleventh year, the memories would be difficult and harder to see. They involved more; most of Harry's first ten years were a tiring repetition of work, chores, and exhausted sleep. It hadn't been pleasant to watch, and Severus was glad at least the small portion he had done _was_ over. He only had seven more years left; Harry was in his seventh year at Hogwarts.

Severus dreaded watching the memories of the Dark Lord. He had seen _more_ than enough of Voldemort in his many and continuing years as a spy, and he wasn't exactly keen on watching more of it. What was more, in the memories, he could feel the emotion in the memory. Severus hated feeling fear, and he knew it would probably be evident in a lot of places. Harry had had every reason to be scared quite a bit in his life, now that Severus took the time to think on it.

Severus felt his own fear quite often enough, although he had learned to control it no matter what the situation. He felt fear every time Voldemort's red eyes pierced his own black ones; he felt fear every time he was questioned, waiting for the two words that would be the end of him; he felt fear every time the Dark Mark on his arm burned; and, most of all, he felt fear at the thought of failing his duty. He never liked to think of it, but he had made a promise to a beautiful young woman with red hair and green eyes long ago, and the protection he had swore on for her son was sometimes the hardest thing to do. Severus feared failing Harry, and he already felt he had; but now as he watched the memories flash by and saw the boy's life resting in his hands, he was afraid yet again. So many different types of fear existed; fear for your own life most of all, but this was different. This was fear for someone else's, someone you knew you _could not_ lose. Severus couldn't lose Harry, not only for his promise to Lily but also because of the way he had misjudged the boy all those years. He had been wrong, and it wasn't fair to Harry or him. In truth, when Severus thought for a second about personalities, compositions, and emotions, they were quite similar. They both could hide their emotions extraordinarily well, due to situations beyond their control, which demonstrated a pressing need for strength; and both had experienced things that were haunting in any situation. Similarities existed, and kindness should have been quick to come if it had been anyone else. It was Severus' fault, and he was determined to fix it.

Severus flashed back for a moment to the memory of when he lay dying, just a few short years ago, with no one to save him. He had had to save himself, and that was impossibly hard to think about. The memories had been pressing down on him, and it was only his sheer determination to live and his will to fight for what he needed. It had been the worst experience of his life, simply because it had hurt _so badly_. He wondered if Harry was in more pain because, even Severus couldn't deny it, he had a pretty bloody awful life. It hadn't been easy for him, and Severus hated that he had to witness it, but still- pain was pain, and anyone being saved from unnecessary pain is a blessing. Harry had been through too much pain in his lifetime already.

Severus wondered if Harry could hear him if he tried to speak. His own presence in the boy's mind was minimal, but perhaps it was enough if applied strongly. Just a thread of presence would be possible, because seven years still separated the boy's mind from Severus' ability to save, but if Harry was fighting along with Severus things would be doubly easier.

Sighing, Severus cast the spell again and entered the extreme blackness that was Harry's mind. The resistance of memories was a huge ball of whiteness that seemed unbreakable. Severus was unable to see through it, but he knew that it _could_ break; it _would_ break if done right, even if just a bit. Immediately, Severus pressed his presence onto the ball, pushing it to breaking point in a small area. After quite awhile, when Severus was quite exhausted and almost ready to give up, it finally gave way. It looked as though the ball was deflating, but Severus knew it wasn't. The hole was resisting the pressure he was applying, but still, Severus slipped through easily. It wouldn't be easy to stay inside; the ball of memories was stronger than he was by far. All he could hope for was to be able to contact Harry, even for the slightest second, before he was pushed out helplessly.

The inside of the bubble of memories was surprisingly still, as if all the life had been sucked out of it. The air- if that was what it really was, even- was perfectly still, not even a rush of movement as Severus' presence breathed in and out in the inky blackness. The bubble surrounding him was immaculate, infinitely beautiful to the point of taking a person's breath away. It expanded in small circles, and they were moving in color and black and white at the same time so that it was almost impossible to really see what was moving, what was in color, and what was surrounded in darkness in the small circles. Severus knew that they were, in fact, separate memories, and millions and millions made up the whole bubble. It seemed to already be pressing in on him, its weight and its meaning and its emotions much stronger than anything Severus could stand. He had to be quick, before the beautiful bubble used its power and expelled him from its depths.

"Harry?" Severus felt strange speaking to no one, speaking to silence, but he knew that it would work. Harry really was in here, hidden somewhere behind the strange wall, somewhere beyond the memories. He was on the other side of the bubble, as the memories were what protected him and at the same time pained and threatened him. It was as if a double-edged sword; one side hurts, the other helps, although which one is which was sometimes hard to identify. "Harry? Can you hear me?"

A deep rumbling noise resounded in the darkness, and Severus was startled by it but not surprised. It had been expected, even. That was Harry's mind, trying to speak. Its immediate reaction was to try and force the presence out, but when it was unable to it had given up and spoken. Severus ignored it and waited for Harry's own voice. When it didn't come, he tried again. "Harry?"

Suddenly, a small voice echoed throughout Severus' head. "Professor?"

"Harry," Severus breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you all right?"

"I'm… not sure," The voice came, barely audible and definitely almost unrecognizable. "I… don't know what's happening. Just that… it hurts, so badly. It… feels like I'm… dying, Professor."

Severus sighed again. This was the moment of truth. "If you don't fight this, Harry, you _will_ die," he said calmly, despite the fact that his insides were shaking and his brain seemed to be mush. "You need to fight for this, or you will die." He repeated.

"Why do you… care?" Came the response, after a moment of silence in which Severus knew Harry was contemplating. "You… hate me…"

Severus shook his head; the bubble was pressing down on him, harder and harder with every pressing second. "That's not of importance," he said quickly, trying to say all he needed to as fast as he could. "But you need to fight, Harry. Use your will to live. I'm trying to help, but I might not be quick enough. Remember all the happy things that have happened in your life, and try not to think about the bad ones. Remember those who love you. Remember…" without being able to finish his sentence, Severus was pushed out _completely_ of Harry's mind, not just of the bubble, and he rested his head on the desk yet again, wondering if what he had said was enough.

--

_**Well! That was quite long! Don't you think it deserves some reviews? Please? This chapter was rather complicated, I'll admit, and if you would **_**please**_** point out any mistakes or errors, and also ask any questions to clarify, I would deeply appreciate it. I am trying to become a better writer, and both praise and well-meant critique is always welcome. Please review! Thank you very much!**_


	7. Chapter Six

_Harry sat alone in the bubble that was the black place, filled with darkness and despair andpain that seemed to be his reality. He had just spoken to Professor Snape, and what was confusing to him was why the man had been in his head anyways. He was going to die regardless, wasn't he? It certainly seemed like it, the way things were going. His mind seemed to be pushing in on him, memories flashing by that wre threatening to engulf him in any given second. It was all just too much. _

_Harry hated reliving everything he had gone through; his life had been a living nightmare for as long as he could remember, and reliving it was just another nightmare. But this time, it was almost as if he was watching another person, another life; it couldn't be him, he really couldn't have looked that badly or been punished that much... could he? Harry had tried desperately for years to forget, and as he thought about it, he realized that he had achieved it more thoroughly than he could have ever guessed. Each memory was a different type of pain, a different striking revelation that pained Harry even more than the previous one because of the enormity of the shock. Harry wanted it all to end, he didn't want to remember anymore- but really, what could he do? All he _could_ do was wait and hope for the best, but now he wasn't even sure what was the best anymore. It was all so confusing._

_Harry could vaguely remember being shocked as the spell in the air had hit him, and he remembered falling, and he even remembered falling in the vaguest part of his mind. But he had thought he was dead then, he had to have been dead then! He couldn't have survived, and if he did, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be alive if it meant endless pain. _

_Snape had said, __'Remember all the happy things that have happened in your life, and try not to think about the bad ones. Remember those who love you.'_

_'The bad ones'. Could Snape know? Could he? Could he... possibly? Harry hoped witha ll his heart that he didn't. He had tried so hard to keep the secret for so many years, but it was hard as scars became more and more evident every year. Harry hadn't even told Ron and Hermione._

_'Use your will to live'. All Harry could remember was that it was his fault he was in this situation; he had run away, only to be chased by Death Eaters. His fault. And now he was in this horrible situatino. 'Use your will to live'. Harry wondered for the briefest second if he had even any will left to live, but he knew he did in a twisted way. He couldn't leave his friends, those he loved and those who loved him, and most of all he couldn't leave the Wizarding world._

_As much as it hurt to fight, Harry had to. It hurt so badly, and Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to even fight. But what Snape had said rang true in Harry's mind. He had to live, it was important for survival not only of himself but for everyone else. He couldn't die now._

_That was Harry's last thought as he slipped into unconsciousness, sitting by himself in the black bubble, memories flashing by at an amazing speed, pain coming in flashes as the memories changed._

_He had to live. He had to._

_But one question still rang in his head. _

_Why? How ? _

_And most of all..._

_Can I do this?_

_--_

_**Really short, but I wanted to do something from Harry's point of view. Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if it was allright in showing Harry's pain and unsureness. Hopefully it was.**_

_**Review!**_


	8. Chapter Seven

That blasted twinkle in Dumbledore's eye haunted Severus had he told the old man the progress of breaking Harry's mind. Severus had not been optimistic at first- in fact, he had leaned towards letting the boy die for his foolishness. But since the Headmaster had convinced him against that (it hadn't been hard; although he was known as cruel, Severus would never condone to letting a child die) he had almost regretted everything now that he had seen Harry's memories. The twinkle in the man's eye told him that he had wanted Severus to feel this way, hoped for it, even planned it, and that infuriated Severus to no end- had Dumbledore _known_ that Harry had been abused, beaten, broken? Severus wouldn't be surprised.

The old man spoke softly. "So, my boy," he said, "how much longer to you think this will take? And will Harry surely survive now? For I have important information must pass on to him."

Severus was silent for a long moment, struggling internally to control his anger and eventually failing to speak in anything above a harsh whisper. "Important information?" he hissed, his black eyes staring hardly into Dumbledore's blue ones. "Well, old man, I have some important information to pass on to _you_."

The old, wizened face leaned back, and Dumbledore steepled his fingers and stared at the younger man over his half-moon spectacles. He looked surprised at Severus' open, unexpected hostility; but still he waited, calm as ever, for him to continue.

"Harry's memories have turned out to be rather… unpleasant." Severus' voice had lost the edge of the icy coldness, but it still rang with a sense of firmness and disgust that Dumbledore didn't miss or misinterpret for even a second.

"That was only to be expected. Harry has seen many things in his life that would haunt even people much stronger than him."

Severus actually snorted at that, and Dumbledore looked at him even harder. "I don't know if I could name many people who are stronger than Harry."

"I wouldn't hesitate to agree," Dumbledore said softly, looking curiously at the boy he had come to love as a son. "What has brought this on, Severus?"

For a long, tense, silent moment, Severus didn't answer; because in truth, he didn't even know himself. Even Dumbledore couldn't deny that Severus had always shown contempt and hatred for the boy, for reasons so biased that he didn't like to think of them; but now, in light of seeing the true Harry, and the reasons behind the silence and the scars, Severus was humbled beyond belief. He really had been wrong, and as much as he hated to admit it, he saw more connections between himself and Harry than he wished he could. He, too, had suffered through abuse and torment, just as Harry had; he, too, had had a heavy burden placed on him ever since he was a boy. It was a huge load to bear, and Severus almost felt guilty now that he hadn't been able to see past the Potter face; he felt guilty that he hadn't been able to see Lily in those green, green eyes; he felt guilty that he hadn't recognized the truth, that Harry really was just a boy. He wasn't his parents, and he never would be. Instead, Harry was a child of the Prophecy, with more weight placed on his shoulders than Severus had ever realized until he saw those memories in the boy's head, which had been more complicated and deeper than Severus had expected. He had been wrong. Harry wasn't the shallow boy he had wanted to see; no, Harry was actually a reflection of himself, which scared Severus beyond means. He wanted _no one_ to end up like him- alone, loveless, unlovable, tormented, tortured, forevermore because of his choices in life. He wished he had been there to guide Harry through those years, and now it was too late.

Dumbledore had sat silently through Severus' whole mental reverie, but suddenly he interrupted the silence, breaking Severus' thoughts. "I trust you did not come hear to tell me Harry is very strong, and then sit in silence with no explanation whatsoever?"

"No," Severus said, sighing and brushing away the man's look of irritation. "Yes. Anyway. Harry is strong, and what brought this on can be explained in one simple word."

"And that would be?" Dumbledore said, anticipation growing in his veins as he watched his colleague. Severus normally wasn't so vague; he either told everything or nothing, or he lied, or he skitted around the truth. Only Dumbledore knew that it was his own way of unconsciously protecting himself.

"Abuse." Came the reply.

Realization dawned in Dumbledore's mind as he saw the connection. "And you can relate with Harry because of this abuse, you say."

Severus nodded slowly, until he realized that Dumbledore really hadn't grasped what he was saying.

"I'm not talking just abuse because of the weight of the prophecy," he said sharply, and Dumbledore was admonished by this proclamation.

"What is it then?" The older man exclaimed, looking as alarmed as he ever looked. "You don't mean _really_, do you?"

"I assure you I do," Severus said grimly, looking at Dumbledore with a fire of anger in his eyes that Dumbledore hadn't seen in those black-as-coal orbs for a long time. "Harry was abused by his family, and he is broken because of it. I have seen his scars, and I have seen his memories. I assure you there is no doubt."

Dumbledore was shocked into silence, which was a feat not normally easy to accomplish. Severus joined him uncomfortably in that silence, until Dumbledore shook his head and finally spoke.

"I see I have made a mistake."

The tone in Severus' voice when he replied betrayed more than a full-on screaming match could have accomplished. "Indeed, you have."

Dumbledore looked up at Severus with pained eyes. "I have made a big mistake, but it is irrevocable now. Severus…. What do we do?"

"Now," Severus sighed, "We try to save him. I have gone far, but not far enough yet. You see now the complexity and the difficulty of the situation. Harry is so far gone and so much broken… for him to fight his own way through his memories would be almost impossible, for it would break him again."

--

**I am so, so sorry for the delay. School is just very overwhelming, and I haven't had time to write. Anyways, here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. I know it is rather short, but I just snuck in a bit of time here. I've been writing it during school hours, but I really only have two classes where I can write because all my other ones require a heavy amount of work. Again, sorry! I hope you enjoyed this. I'm not really sure what to do next, so here is a bit of a poll:**

_**What should happen?**_

_**Should Harry almost die, only to be saved?  
**__**Should Harry die?  
**__**Should Harry just come out of his mind easily after Severus gets through all the memories, but be heavikly haunted afterwards?  
**__**Should Harry have to save himself?**_

_**Vote! Please! I want your opinions, need your opinions!**_

_**Thanks!**_


	9. Chapter Eight

_**Black Debt  
by sick-atxxheart  
Chapter Eight**_

_The darkness seemed to be closing in on him, and Harry couldn't help but be afraid. His black bubble had been his comfort, his protection in this world of hurt and pain and fear- and yet that bubble was what brought him horror, what made him relive everything he had tried to hard to forget. It was a double-edged sword, a twisted world with pain and pleasure walking hand in hand, that bubble was, and Harry hated and resented it but also didn't want to leave it at the same time. Here, he was safe- lost within his own mind. He didn't have the burden of the whole world pressing down upon him; he didn't have any of the responsibilities that being a Savior entailed. It was, truly, the perfect, ideal life for him; except for the fact that he truly was being tortured, day after day._

_He hadn't moved ever since he had entered the bubble, choosing to lay in silence and watch memories flash by and the weight of the bubble slowly descend upon him, until he could only roll over in the width of the circle. He knew he would die soon, because he didn't know what else he truly_ could_ do. He had fought against viewing the memories; he truly had. He had tried to resist breaking in the face of all the things that had haunted him over the years; he had tried to escape, pushing on the bubble with his soul instead of his body. Nothing had worked. The stream of images just kept coming, and more and more pressure was being applied on his fragile mind, which was just a mere second away from breaking. _

_He really hadn't expected to hold on this long. Harry had never considered himself strong; in fact, the weakness that had been imprinted on him from abuse and torment through his lifetime had left him scarred not only physically but also emotionally and mentally. He was weak, and he knew that and expected it from himself. He was weak, and he wasn't expecting or even wanting anything more. He expected to break; sometimes, he even _wanted_ to break, simply so he could feel the sweet release from _trying_ to be strong. It was so hard for him to be strong. He hated that about himself, but he had accepted it long ago._

_The tranquil bubble sedated Harry, and in his dream-state he was content. But still, the pain was growing, and the torture was amplifying and death was surely the only outcome. Harry felt bad, because he knew that many people were fighting for him, or they would be if they knew; especially Dumbledore and Snape. They had worked hard, he knew, to protect him, even if they weren't his favorite persons because they were sometimes manipulative and even cruel. But still, they were the lifelines Harry had on the world, besides his friends and the Weasleys. But still, Harry couldn't fight for them. It wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough. He was all alone._

_He knew he would still be all alone when he died._

--

Severus had been working tirelessly for hours, the adrenaline that he had received from his conversation with Dumbledore powering him on endlessly to save Harry. That was his mission, his creed: I have to save Harry; I have to save Harry; I have to save Harry. His dedication scared even him, because he didn't understand it.

He thought deep in his heart that maybe, just maybe, he couldn't bear to have those green eyes, Lily's green eyes, close in death again.

He had almost made it through, and he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. But he could feel Harry fading; he knew that the boy was slipping away, even though Severus could feel the gentle resistance that had been put up. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough. But the boy had tried. Severus guessed the feeling, as he had experienced it- so tired. That was the best way of describing it. You just wanted to go to sleep, to let go, to forget it all- and that was the moment when you would slip away, never to return.

He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let that happen.

The memories had gotten progressively worse, and it pained Severus greatly to see them; but he worked tirelessly, endlessly. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was becoming almost parental towards Harry- and he didn't mind it. Seeing the boy broken, shattered, sitting in the black bubble that encompassed his soul, had really shaken Severus' viewpoint of the boy, and now he wanted to make up for lost time. The main focus now was to make sure that they got that time.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Severus had broken through the final year. All that was left was the thin shield that surrounded Harry's soul, the main point in his body that controlled everything around him- his heart, his magic, his mind. The soul was incredibly beautiful, and Severus was almost taken away by the sight of it. He had, of course, seen his own soul so many years before when he had been in a similar situation; but Harry's varied so much from his own. Severus' had been white entwined with black, symbolizing loyalty to both the Light and the Dark, and also symbolizing the lies and deceit that Severus had been forced to accommodate to (mostly against his will) for his whole life. Severus had cried afterwards when he remembered the way that his own soul had looked so twisted that it was almost unbearable.

Harry's, on the other hand, was almost purely white, with flecks of color swiping gently across the surface. There was, however, one thick band of black running down the dead center of the circle that symbolized Harry's soul; and that surprised Severus because it was unusual. It could have many meanings, many of which he would have to contemplate further on to decipher; but the apparent meaning was that Harry had already be plagued by the Dark. He had been affected by it, and it had left a monumental mark on his soul.

Severus wasn't surprised by the fact that it was there; some show of the scar that marked the boy's forehead and the hurt that had always encompassed his heart had to show. He was, however, shocked by just how thick the band was. He didn't really think that the Dark band really meant the Dark, as in the evil side; no, rather he thought that the band resembled the darkness of Harry's mind and soul. It was light, but tainted by Dark, and it would forever remain that way because of his past. It was a sad concept, really.

Inside the soul, which was mostly invisible with different shades of color and transparency throughout, Severus could see the shadowed form of Harry Potter lying spread-eagle on the surface. He really looked defeated, and that scared Severus. He could just barely see the glint in the boy's eyes; shadows surrounded the figure, making him look as if he was not there, and if he was, he was simply enshrouded by Dark. It was a scary image, and one that Severus had hoped he would never have to see again.

Severus knew he couldn't go any farther. He had broken through all the mind's shields, including all the memories that were left to haunt and break those who were weak; but here, the soul was the most delicate and fragile thing ever. To break it would be worse than death; to crush it would be torture for the person; to destroy it would mean eternal torment, a fate worse than death.

No, Severus couldn't go any farther. All he could do was see if he could talk to the figure on the floor, support him, draw him out.

Only the person could break the soul without completely crushing the mind and the heart.

But only the person could completely crush their own mind and their own heart.

Either way, the situation was not a good one, and Severus was not content to sit and wait and study and speak; but he did not have another option. To break through the shell of his soul would be increasingly, unceasingly painful for Harry, and Severus was almost afraid to ask him to do it. You had to be willing, and most of all, you had to be strong enough, you had to want it enough. Severus wasn't sure if Harry was willing; he hoped he was strong enough; but most of all, Severus was scared that Harry didn't want it enough. The boy had been crushed too many times to be expected to bounce right back up onto his feet without a scar.

Severus was just beginning to speak when a shattered scream broke the serenity of Harry's mind. The darkness was pierced with the cry that tore Severus' soul in the intensity of it; the pain and the agony that was reflected in it were almost unbearable. The figure in the bubble was writhing in agony, screaming its heart out as the soul grew smaller and smaller, encasing it in white and black, inescapable except for the strongest and unimaginable except for the weakest.

As the screams continued, the dim light in the room slowly began disappearing into a subtle blackness, a nothingness that scared Severus because he knew what it meant. Harry might not be strong enough to get himself out of this one.

Harry's mind, his soul, his heart- they were all slipping away.

He was fading away from life.

_--_

_**Thanks to everyone who voted in the poll! The numbers were as follows: **_

_**1. Should Harry almost die, only to be saved? 5 votes  
**__**2. Should Harry die? 2 votes  
**__**3. Should Harry just come out of his mind easily after Severus gets through all the memories, but be heavily haunted afterwards? 2 votes  
**__**4. Should Harry have to save himself? 4 votes**_

**_If I skipped one, sorry. But anyways, I have mostly decided to use all of them… in a fun, creative, and very secretive way that you shall have to wait to learn of mwah haha! Sorry._ **

_**But anyways, hope this chapter was good. I liked it. Hopefully it cleared things up, as it was very descriptive. You see the first part of the battle for Harry's survival. I have things written out, so I might be able to update this weekend.**_

_**Please send me a review, as I haven't truly, truly decided what to do yet. I think it's in-between Harry saving himself or Severus saving him. I actually really want to do a fic where Harry dies, but I don't know if I could bring myself to do that in this one. What do you think?**_

_**Review!**_


	10. Chapter Nine

**Black Debt  
by sick-atxxheart  
Chapter Nine**

The scream continued, and Severus was shattered to have to sit and watch the anguish take place. The body in the bubble continued to shake continuously, shuddering and crying out until Severus was sure that it would break into a million little pieces from all the pressure. The bubble was getting increasingly smaller, although it shrinking in very small increments; still, it was decreasing in size, and that scared Severus because he knew what would happen as a result of that. Harry's mind would collapse, and Harry would die, and all would be lost. The serenity of the bubble was destroyed immediately by the piercing sound that cut through it and the shaking and the pain that seemed to encompass it. No longer was it a peaceful bubble- no, now it was the very essence of pain, the very thing that could break you just by ceasing to run.

Harry was breaking.

The scream was one that encompassed everything Severus connected with pain- he had heard many screams like it, and even uttered it more than once. It was the scream of torture, the scream of wanting nothing more to do with life- it was the scream of wanting death over the pain that was being experienced. It was the scream that could- would- cut out the heart of any living, caring person- and that was what was happening to Severus. He had heard many of those screams- from his fellow Death Eaters, from their unwilling victims, and even, heartbreakingly, from himself.

He hated feeling weak.

But when there was so much pain, you weren't anything but weak.

Severus knew Harry was in pain, more pain that was possibly endurable. More pain than he had already experienced in his life, if that was even possible. It seemed it was.

Severus had to do something. Something. Anything.

Immediately Severus began calling out to the boy with all his might, breaking the silence of the beautiful bubble with his smooth voice slipping through the nothingness. "Harry! Harry!" He cried, moving as close as he dared to the light broken by black that was Harry's soul. He could see an immediate reaction from the boy; a missed second of movement showed that his cries had been heard, so he continued them just as urgently as before.

"Harry! Harry, listen to me! You have to fight this! You have to! Don't give in, Harry! I know it hurts worse than anything you have everything experienced, because it is everything you have ever experienced put together in one, but still, Harry! Please! Don't give up! Fight for your life! You can do this!" His pleas continued urgently as he listened to the silence that notably marked the absence of screams and movement.

The disappearance of any movement from inside the bubble scared Severus. He was glad that the screams were gone; it meant Harry was listening, that Harry was still able to think and reason even in the last moments of his life. Even that was a lot to expect. But the fact that there was no movement didn't seem normal, because it could mean that Harry's soul had slipped beyond saving and was shutting down forever. The nothingness that filled the void and the black that was the main part of Harry's mind that surrounded the soul was absolutely silent, and the light on the dome around Harry was fading, and Severus was scared, truly scared. He began calling again, but after a second he listened again for any sound. When he heard none, he touched a gentle finger to the fading dome, making sure just to touch but not apply any- _any_- pressure. Nothing happened, and Severus knew that was not normal.

For those few moments in the nothingness, Severus believed Harry was dead.

In those few moments of nothingness, Severus was thrown violently out of Harry's mind by an unseen force as the mind began to shut down.

--

_'Am I dead?' Harry wondered aloud to himself, lying spread-eagled on the ground, surrounded by black. He could feel nothing, not even the surface he was lying on or the air around his body. Nothing. The stillness was unnerving, and the silence was frightening. There was absolutely nothing._

_All he could remember was shattering, breaking pain that had filled the whole of him, ripping him apart piece by piece until there had been nothing left. He remembered screaming, crying out, wishing for it all to end- but mostly he remembered the pain. He would never forget that. It had been like a million red-hot sticks being placed on his body, never to leave; pins being pushed into his delicate skin; beatings until within an inch of his life; everything that was painful, everything, anything that hurt the mind and the body- all wrapped into one, and doubled, and tripled, until Harry thought he would go insane. He had wondered if that was what Neville's parents had felt like. Had they gone insane simply from wishing the pain would stop, or was it the pain itself?_

_Harry wondered if he was insane now._

_But he didn't feel any different. No, he felt nothing. Nothing at all. He could remember pain, he could remember the feel of it and the burn of it as it ripped across his flesh and through his mind and into his soul, but he didn't feel it anymore. No, there was nothing._

_'Am I dead?' He asked again, more to himself than to anyone else. He found he couldn't move; what was more, he didn't want to move. He was scared of moving. Moving meant pain. Pain meant agony. Agony meant even more pain._

_He couldn't handle any more pain._

_Harry was immensely surprised in his quiet, unmoving state when someone- something- answered his question._

_'You aren't dead.'_

_'Well then, what am I?'_

_'You are in between worlds. It is now your turn to make a choice, Harry Potter.'_

_As Harry lay back on the ground, still spread-eagled and remembering insane amounts of pain, he contemplated what the voice had said. A choice. What could that mean? He asked out loud, feeling strange to talk to nothing. 'What choice?'_

_'The choice of whether or not to go back to your world, or to join the land of the dead in eternal rest.'_

_Harry's first reaction was to say immediately that he wanted to go back, that he had to go back. He had duties, he had friends, he had to save the world for God's sake- but then, a little part of him asked why. Harry voiced those thoughts out loud, wondering if the voice would be actually companionable and help him make his decision._

_'Why should I?' he said scornfully, unable to keep the anger and resentment that had been building his whole life out of his voice. 'All they do is put burdens on me. Save the world. Keep Voldemort out of your head. Handle this, deal with that. Go through this pain. We don't care about you; just do it.'_

_The voice was silent, and Harry wondered if it was truly all up to him, until the deep sound spoke again, reassuring but at the same time contemplative. 'There are many sides to this decision.'_

_Harry was silent, waiting._

_'On the one hand, you have spoken and declared the heavy burden that has been placed on you, not only by the ones in the magical world as an emotional burden, but also the non-magical peoples who have placed a physical burden on you.'_

_Harry was surprised at first that the voice knew of his abuse from his life that he had endured for years and years, but the he wasn't. This seemed to be all in his head, didn't it? His conscience, or his soul, or one thing or another? It had to be._

_He nodded, wondering if it made any difference._

_'But then again, there are many things in the world for you to go back to.'_

_Harry didn't need the voice to explain those to him. His friends, the world, his magic, the Weasleys'- everything he had grown to love mattered, and he really did have so much to go back to. But the question was, did what he had to return to outweigh the reasons he had to stay?_

_Harry couldn't decide. He didn't understand what had even happened to get him to this place, to this state of pain and agony and decisions- he remembered flying and being pursued, and he even remembered falling. But he couldn't remember why he was here, or what had happened to him. He wasn't even sure if he had known at one point._

_He did remember, however, Snape in his mind. And that scared him. What had he seen? He had told him to be strong, to fight his hardest and think about those things that were good. Because that was what was important, wasn't it?_

_When Harry thought on it, he realized that the advice that had been given had truly come from Snape's heart. The man had been dealing with pain and agony his entire life, being a spy as Harry knew him to be. He had been tortured for insignificant mistakes; he had had to play a double role his entire life; he had been forced to be strong for the world, without any_ _recognition at all._

_When he thought on that, Harry felt weak, and most of all, he felt guilty for even beginning to feel sorry for himself. His burdens were nothing compared to that of Snape. He had burdens, no one could deny that; but when you weighed them, Harry had friends and mentors around him to assist and give support. He had lost many, but he had gained many. Snape, on the other hand, had lost everything and gained nothing except more pain._

_Harry cursed the inhumanity of the world. Both he and Snape were victims._

_When he looked at it with that critical eye, he realized he had gotten off easy._

_Harry was also immensely surprised that Severus had even cared. He wondered again if the man had seen his memories, and Harry still hoped he hadn't; but now he realized that they were more similar than either of them had seen. They both had pain. They both had burdens. They both had agony. They both had cruelty to endure._

_They both had seen far too much than any eyes should have to ever experience._

_Maybe, just maybe, Harry did have enough to go back to. But he did have one childish question left, one his heart rebelled against but his body insisted upon._

_'Going back… if I go back, will it hurt?'_

_There was a pause, a quiet moment of hesitation. The responding voice was quieter, softer, and almost apologetic. 'Yes.'_

_Setting his face in a determined look, Harry steadied and readied himself. He had to go back. He was a hero, a savior. He had to go back, not only for himself but also for his friends and those he considered his family and in fact the entire world. He had experienced pain before, and he had lived through it. He could name countless times. The abuse at the Dursleys; the episode with Voldemort near the Mirror of Erised; getting attacked by the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets; having his arm cut open and dueling Voldemort in the graveyard fourth year; fighting fifth year; and countless other times. It was a never-ending list, and Harry had always had a high tolerance for pain; but he was afraid that this time, he wouldn't be able to handle it. He had suffered through the agony in his mind from the curse, and that had been far beyond anything he had ever imagined he could survive- but look what had happened. He was in between life and death, the world of the living and breathing and that of the dead and gone. It was a tragic, scary place to be, and Harry didn't want to come back to it if he wasn't strong enough to return. He knew that the next time, he wouldn't have a choice._

_Nodding his head as much as he could from his place on the ground, Harry spoke softly into the quiet. 'I would like to go back to the world.'_

_A loud, rhythmic sound could be heard, and Harry almost thought it closely resembled a heartbeat. The voice spoke again._

_'Let your journey back to the world of the living commence, Harry Potter.'_

--

**Well?? Was it okay?? I tried so hard to incorporate all four elements- Harry dying, him saving himself, Snape saving him, and Harry coming out easily. Is it any good? Please, please tell me. This was really difficult to write. But look how long it is! : Faints from exhaustion : Just kidding. Anyways, please leave me a lovely review?**

**Also, check out my new story. I just uploaded it. It's called 'Return'.**

**By the way, much, much thanks to the following reviewers- I thank you all so much: **

_Snapesthe1, Someone aka Me, flamingodancer, DeliaDee, JWOHPfan, Lolgirl, __Mervoparkite, Witton, AmandaBurke76, Future-Little-Mrs.-Teddy-Lupin, sernity1806, darkangel2226, arithnocrat, and puckandoberon._

_Darkangel2226, DeliaDee, Snapesthe1, and mervoparkite were especially, especially helpful because they put a lot of things in perspective and I used a lot of their ideas._

**Thank you so much to all of you! 14 of you! Can I expect a review from each of you?**

**Review! That's an order! :)**


	11. Chapter Ten

**Black Debt  
by sick-atxxheart  
Chapter Ten**

He had failed.

That was all Severus could think about as he slumped back in the chair he had spent so many hours in, staring at the unmoving form of seventeen-year-old Harry Potter. He had failed, and the result of his failure was yet again another life was ended tragically.

Severus sighed as he rested his face in his long, thin hands. He hated those hands; he hated himself, everything about him. He couldn't save anyone, and he had never been able to. He hadn't been able to save Lily. He hadn't been able to save all the innocent people he had to repeatedly watch be tortured. He hadn't even been able to save Harry, the boy whose soul he had found to be just as broken as his own. Severus couldn't deal with the guilt. Everyone he had tried to save, anything he had ever wanted- all had been taken away from him. The world was cruel.

The world had left him all alone.

He had seen Harry fight, he truly had. Severus knew that Harry hadn't given up; the boy had just not been strong enough. The strength of the mind wasn't even enough sometimes against the pressure of memories, and it could- would- crush anyone. Severus himself had been lucky to survive his own ordeal so many years ago.

Severus was startled back into reality when he realized he was crying.

Severus Snape _never_ cried.

He had always been strong; he had always been unbreakable. The masks and shields he had built, layer by layer, over the years had served him well and true. But this just wasn't _fair_. Harry had been tormented, abused, and beaten for too many years to just slip away now. His life had been just starting, the war was almost over- he had almost won- and now, with a flash of pain and a blinding scream, it was all lost.

The boy's hair was seemingly messy, as it always was, and Severus unconsciously brushed a black strand of hair away so he could see the beautiful curse that decorated his forehead. The lightning bolt scar _was_ beautiful, it couldn't be denied by anyone- a yellow that seemed to blend into his skin, surrounded by a fine line of red that nearly vanished but could still be seen. It was a beauty, and it was a curse. It served as a reminder of all that had been lost, and what could have been won but wasn't.

Severus wished more than anything that Harry didn't have that bloody scar.

It reminded him too much of Lily, and now, seeing it, he realized he would never see that perfect shape above the piercingly green eyes ever again.

He would never see those green eyes again.

He had lost Lily, and now he had lost Harry. The two people he had sworn to protect were now gone forever, lost within their own minds- one dead by pain, one dead by a single flash of light that took her breath away, literally. It was all so tragic, and Severus couldn't keep the tears from running down his face. He had lost Lily, and now he had lost Harry.

Another tear slipped down his cheek, and for once in his life Severus accepted his tears. He hadn't cried when Lily had died. He hadn't allowed himself to. His heart had yearned for it, wanted it, needed it- but he hadn't given in. He had told himself that he had made the choice, that he was the one who had turned her away, and now he was being punished for it. It had been a cruel viewpoint to take, and Severus had known it; but he had almost _wanted_ the pain. He had almost needed it. He had needed it to be real.

Because he was scared that if he didn't feel pain, he wouldn't feel anything at all.

Harry's palms were face-up, the fingers spread delicately. Severus could see the muscle in the fingers, from Quidditch and from training. HE was one of the only four people who knew that Harry had been training in secret- preparing himself, Dark magic, Light magic, anything he could get his hands on. Dumbledore had told Severus that, and Severus had been surprised at the time, but he hadn't really cared. He had always thought that the burden of saving the world was too big for one boy, _especially_ the son of James Potter, and that had led him to cruelty and indifference. But now Severus could see that Harry really was scared, and that was what had led him to try and do something on his own. And that foolish move- Severus could understand it, but it didn't make it any less foolish- had put Harry in this position.

But Severus couldn't forget that he had been the one to say the curse at all, and send it flying towards a helpless boy.

He had tried to forget it, but he had found he couldn't. Not for one second.

The guilt was nearly crushing him, as much as he had tried not to let it. He had sent that curse; it wasn't supposed to hit the boy, that had not been the plan, and that was Severus' main comfort. It wasn't supposed to it Harry; he hadn't meant it to, which means that it had been an innocent- well, maybe not so innocent, but unintentional all the same- act. He had told himself multiple times that if he could save Harry, his dignity would be restored as soon as he apologized to Harry, and he had been looking forward to that day when he would be at least free of some of his guilt.

But now Harry was gone, and he had no chance to apologize.

He truly had failed.

--

_The darkness was slowly rising, and Harry was unsure of whether or not he wanted it to go away. He was safe here, and the pain had been lifted mercifully. But he could feel himself returning, and he couldn't help but feel scared. The pain would be returning, the torment would commence again, and he would be thrown violently into a world of torture that there was no escaping._

_But he had made his decision, and he had no choice but to stick to it now. _

_The world was slowly collapsing in on him, and he could see the vague similarities between this and what had happened in his own mind… but then, wasn't this his own mind? Wasn't this all a fragment of his imagination? Was it a dream? Was it reality? Was it a nightmare?_

_He didn't know._

_But soon enough, his peaceful world faded, and he was back in the bubble, pulsing and fighting for air, drowning in the blackness, screaming, fading, screaming, breaking-_

--

Severus hadn't moved since he had put his face in his hands and begun to cry. The sun was slowly rising, and he realized that he had been up the whole night; but he didn't care. The boy hadn't moved- but why should he? He was dead. The dead don't move.

He rose slowly and walked about the room to try and clear his head. The room was buzzing with the smell, the feel of pain and death and misery, and he hated it. But he couldn't bring himself to leave, he just couldn't. The silence was almost haunting; he could hear every move he made- the careful footsteps on the floor, the rustling of his ever-present billowing black cloak, the sound of his breathing, and if Severus didn't know any better, he would have said he could hear his own heartbeat.

The gray walls were plain, practically without a single adornment on them; Severus had never liked to be lavish. It just reminded him of the life he had wished he could but didn't lead, and he always tried to stray away from things like that as often as possible. But the bed in the room that Harry was lying on and the chair that Severus had been sitting on were as comfortable as possible, showing rare signs of the luxury that Severus was wealthy enough to have but humble enough to not pursue.

Severus sat down again, and he couldn't help staring at the body on the bed. He had to see it for what it was; a corpse. Harry was dead.

But slowly, a hesitant thought trickled its way into his mind. How had he not thought of this before? He had a critical fault of being blinded sometimes, dead to the world because of grief. As a spy, he shouldn't have that fault. But he did, and now he regretted it as the thought rushed through his head unbidden. _Is he really dead?_

Raising a shaking hand, Severus placed it on Harry's chest gently, waiting for the telltale sign of either life… or death.

He felt a heartbeat.

--

_Light was slowly returning, but Harry couldn't feel anything but pain. The world had collapsed, and he wanted to scream but he found he couldn't. Everything was blocked- he was blind, he was deaf, he was mute, he was senseless. He was nothing. He had nothing. His world meant nothing, his world was nothing._

--

Severus was shocked into silence when he felt that heartbeat, and he was convinced for a long, silent moment that it was just the cruel world playing yet another trick on him, preying and feeding on his weakness to make him finally fall. But when he pressed down harder, he could feel the resounding thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump that was resounding through Harry's body, faint, but still there.

He wasn't dead.

The thought hadn't quite processed in Severus' mind when a piercing scream broke the silence, echoing around the room and resounding in Severus' ears. He shuddered, hearing the similarities once again between this scream and all the screams of pain he had heard over the years. It was heartbreaking, and it was nauseating; but he had no time to think of this now.

Harry was alive; he was waking up; and he was screaming.

"Harry!" Severus screamed, as close to the boy's ear as he dared. "Harry! Wake up!"

The screams continued for a horrible few long minutes, until they suddenly ended as abruptly as they had started. Severus waited in elated silence for whatever would come next, and he didn't have to wait long.

The beautiful green eyes opened again, and Harry's fists clenched and unclenched.

Harry was alive.

But more than anything, Severus feared the glassy look that was in Harry's eyes. They didn't look real anymore. The green was tainted by black, and the sheen that covered them was almost haunting.

Harry wouldn't be the same.

--

_**Thank you all for your lovely reviews! I really appreciate them. How was this chapter? Please review. You know you want to! Shoot for one hundred reviews! I mean, not this chapter, but soon? Maybe? AHHH! **_

_**HAHA! **_

_**As I said in my profile, randomness is life. Ignore my craziness. :D**_

_**Review! Feed the plot bunnies! Make me happy! AHH!**_


	12. Chapter Eleven

Eyes were such a beautiful and haunting thing, Severus thought as he stared at the broken ones that were Harry's. Eyes could tell so much about a person- they could reveal their secrets if one wasn't careful, they could show a person's heart or soul, and then again they could show the happiness and joy that sometimes could grace someone's heart. They could reveal so much about a person, in so many different ways- in the shape and contour of the lines that make them up, in the emotion that shown through them, in the color that shines so brightly, and in the strength that could possess them- strength and weakness, grace and power- so much could be conveyed.

Severus' black, Dumbledore's blue, Lily's and Harry's green- colors showed the soul, Severus contemplated as he stared at Harry's eyes which were now marred by spidery webs of black. Severus almost gasped at the fragile yet haunting beauty- the gorgeous, indescribable green that resided underneath, and the black that covered them now with a thin veil that seemed to encompass the green and fade it, but not diminish it. It was beautiful, and it was ugly, and Severus was infinitely sad that his beautiful eyes had now been marred by his own spell nonetheless. Severus had thought he would be able to let go of the guilt after Harry woke up, but now every time he saw the boy- would his eyes be a reminder not only of the loss of Lily but also the failure to protect Harry?

Severus had a bad feeling it would.

But at the moment, a bigger problem faced Severus.

The boy he had tried to so hard to save, tried to hard to protect, was lying in front of him with a glazed look in his marred eyes, unseeing, unfeeling. He looked dead.

"Harry?" Severus whispered, quieter than he intended to be. "Harry?" he said again, his voice getting a little louder with each time he spoke. Harry's eyes weren't blinking. They weren't seeing. There was nothing.

_--_

_ The world was dark, and Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. He had thought that when he would return to the land of the living, everything would be amazingly bright, so bright it would be blinding- but everything was dark, and he was scared. He didn't want it all to be dark. At first, Harry had thought that darkness kept him safe- but now, the black reminded him of pain. He didn't want to be reminded of pain. He fought against the dark, and he was surprised when he found that if he fought it almost did not hurt. It was almost as if he was himself again- Harry was elated at the thought- but he still seemed disconnected from his life, as if the Harry he knew was somewhere else- and he was only connected with a string that was about to break, as fragile as a cobweb. He wasn't attached to his body anymore, just still hanging in the boundary between life and death, as he had been earlier. He had wanted to return, and Harry was fairly confident that he had made the right choice. He hadn't wanted to leave everything behind, and that had been his main reason for returning in the first place; but here, in the darkness that seemed to surround everything, the world was depicted as yet again a scary place that Harry wished he wasn't in. More than anything, he wanted to return to everything he knew to be safe and strong. But Harry also knew that the world wouldn't be easy when he was back. He didn't doubt that he would be haunted, even more so than he had been before; he would have to go through everything he had thought he had broken himself of. Because he had. Harry had spent years breaking himself of the fear, of the worry that surrounded everything when he was being haunted by his memories; it had been _so hard_ to do that that Harry knew he wouldn't have the time to do it yet again. But there was no working around it. It would come, as Harry knew it would; and he would have to live through it, just as he had the pain from the abuse originally, and then the pain from the aftermath and the torture of the memories, and then all the things that happened in his Hogwarts years, and then the dark times in the black place in his mind, and now this nearly inexistent but still present pain. Harry didn't even know if anything he was thinking made sense, if anything he did was real or relative to his life. Could he hit himself or kill himself in his mind, and would it translate to his real life state? Could it? Could this pain be real? Would Harry be so haunted afterwards? Was the voice in his head real? Was he real?_

_Harry continued thinking about these things until suddenly, his world lit up as never before. His eyes were blinded by pain and pleasure, death and life, sadness and happiness- a cursed combination, one Harry hoped he would never have to experience ever again. It disconcerted him, bothered him, hurt him more than he cared to admit- but the pain was almost welcome._

_Anything just so Harry could feel something, something, anything to let him know he was real. Anything to let him know he was alive._

--

"Harry! Harry!" Severus' frantic pleas continued, each more desperate and pledging than the last. He wanted so badly for the boy to be all right, and Severus knew that if he was, he would apologize as if never before- but still, he hadn't let go of the possibility that an apology might not be possible. Harry might have rejuvenated now, but in a second he could slip away again-

The boy's eyes were still staring directly at Severus, and Severus sighed as he couldn't help but look away from them. They were creepy, even for Severus, who had trained himself so well to not be scared by anything- they scared him, because they reminded him of brokenness.

Severus always tried so hard to not to be broken that it was his biggest fear. If he was broken, he couldn't feel. If he couldn't feel, he would do things he didn't want to.

If he forgot, he would end up like his father.

Severus felt tears threaten to leak down his cheeks, and he immediately shook his head and swiped at his eyes, hiding the weakness that had so quickly shown up. Those were the kind of mistakes, the kind of allowances that he couldn't permit to permeate his life. One mistake, one slip-up, would end everything. But Severus really couldn't deny that what he had just thought- that being weak, not being able to feel, made him like his father- was truly the base of his problems. HE tried _so hard_, so hard it sometimes made him weak from exhaustion and strain, to not follow in the footsteps of the man he had grown up with; but it was hard sometimes. He had to fight not to let everything bother him so.

He was focusing on wiping his tears away when he heard a small voice.

"No more darkness…" Harry's voice whispered, his mouth barely moving. "I see light."

Severus gasped and smiled, his mind barely able to comprehend what was happening. "Yes, Harry. No more darkness."

--

**This is such a horrible chapter, and I have to say I'm sorry. It was rushed and disconnected and all- so please tell me if it makes no sense. Thanks!**

**Review!**


	13. Chapter Twelve

The world was silent again as Harry and Severus stared at one another, Harry unseeing and Severus hoping. It was a tense silence, a broken silence, filled with hope and wonder and a never-ending sense of desire for the other to be alright. Neither realized that they were feeling what they were: Harry felt nothing, and Severus was still imagining the broken green eyes on Lily, _his _Lily, to see anything else. He had heard Harry speak, he truly had; and for the man who had been so strong his entire life, he felt surprisingly overwhelmed.

Harry himself was stuck in his head, but he had a consciousness and he was grateful for that.

The silence crackled with tension and heat, until Severus spoke, his voice hoarse from crying and gasing the boy's name. "H- H- Harry?"

The glint changed in Harry's eyes, and Severus knew he had been heard. "Harry!" He repeated, saying it over and over until a real answer was recieved.

Finally, it came. It was a barely audible whisper, a breath in the void of silence that was like a breeze on a still summer day. It rustled the room, that breath of life, recognition, and apparent sanity; that single breath, that single word, ignited hope in Severus' heart like nothing else.

"W...wh..at..."

Severus breathed, and took a moment before responding to Harry's question with another question. "How are you feeling?"

Another weighted silence passed as Harry's glazed eyes continued to stare unseeingly forward and Severus waiting anxiously again for an answer. Suddenly, Harry's head leaned back, his mouth opened wide, and a scream so violent it was almost unbearable to hear...

--

_Harry screamed and screamed, and the voice echoed around in his mind constantly, unendingly, until he thought that his mind would again crack under the pressure and the horrible sound of his own scream. He was constantly wondering, What is happening to me? What _is_ happening to me? The world is light now, there is no more darkness, but still, he couldn't see a thing despite the blinding light that seemed to encompass everything. He could hear Severus speaking to him, kind words that were surprisingly devoid of sarcasm and cruelty, but his world was as blind as if someone had put a blindfold over his eyes. Confusing as this was, nothing beat the feeling he had felt when his mind was getting smaller and smaller, closing in on him until there was nothing left. But now, the light was so blinding and Harry's want for something concrete was so strong that it almost overwhelmed him..._

--

Severus listened to the scream for a few long, never-ending moments before standing up quickly and shaking Harry as hard as he dared. "Harry!" He cried frantically again. The scream was full of pain and longing, and the need- desire- craving- to be out of darkness and into light. It was a scream that encompassed everything someone had ever hoped for, wanted, wished for- and Severus wanted it to end because he hated the sound. It was a sound of such agony that Severus associated it with everything he himself had ever felt- how many times had he screamed that same scream, that same sound of immense agony when he was being tortured for something so small and insignificant that no one else would have noticed it? Too many times to count, he was sure, and he hated it just as much as he knew Harry did. It made you feel remarkably weak and immensely insignificant, and the inability to control your own body, your own mind, or even your own screams left you feeling helpless and hopeless. Severus had heard that scream too many times, both from himself and others, and now hearing it from Harry it only increased his desire for it never to ring in his ears again. But the sound continued, and when it finally stopped, Severus had already sat down, his own onyx-black eyes glazed over in a memory.

_As a little boy, he had never screamed. Not once. His father had beat him and had tortured in every way he could possibly dream of, and probably had even surpassed that level of what could be hoped for, or wished for; but Severus had never given in. Since he was a little boy, he had steeled himself, made himself strong under his mask that protected him against everything. Under that mask, he could cry in secret and be strong on the outside. He had to be strong; for himself, so he wouldn't fall apart, never to be put back together again; and he had to be strong for his mother, who could and would break if she knew that Severus himself was breaking inside. He had to be strong for everyone, because he knew that if he fell apart than his whole life would follow suit. There was no wiggle room, no room for movement and no room for mistakes. It was that mask, that forced indifference, that led him to the Dark. But he had never surrendered to his father. He screamed for the Dark Lord, because it was expected and saved him as much additional pain as possible; but Severus' mask was still intact. It had never been broken._

The room was silent when Severus shook himself out of his reverie, and he gave himself a moment to regain his nearly-lost composure before he returned to the ever-important task at hand. "Harry?" he asked quietly, hesitantly.

The voice that responded was so heart-broken that Severus was instantly compelled to try and comfort the boy as soon as Harry responded. "Why can't I see anything? Why is the world light, but everything is just white? Why can't I see anything?" Those five words were repeated over and over, tears running down the porcelain-white face that was matched with the red lightning bolt scar that decorated his forehead. His face looked so anguished that Severus was desperate to try and comfort the boy, not only because he felt for him but alsobecause he could relate to the hopelessness that came along with dire situations. But he also didn't know how to answer. Harry couldn't see anything? But he couldn't be... blind... could he? Could the black that covered his eyes be so thin a layer that it hindered his seeing, permanently? Could it really be?

Taking out his wand and running quick diagnostic spells, Severus groaned as the worst was confirmed. Harry was blind, at least temporarily. The light to his eyes could get through, but something in the mechanics of how images from the eyes reach the brain and from there on out was scrambled, mixed up in such a way that Severus couldn't begin to hope to attempt to understand it without careful study of the causes and the situation. There might be a way to cure it, Severus thought, but for now, his eyes are so damaged that the light is nearly blinding him.

Severus sighed as he broke the news to the boy. He was used to recieving bad news, and almost as used to giving it; but he still hated it, and each time he had to do it made it no easier. "I'm sorry, Harry, but it appears that for the time being you are blind."

The silence that met his statement was even worse than Severus had expected. When Harry finally answered, the acceptance and the resignation that graced both his voice and his features was so evident that Severus could almost feel the anger and pain and dissapointment that was radiating off of him. "I see... that's just how it is then."

"Harry, I'm sorry," Severus said earnestly, leaning forward with a sudden burst of unexpected compassion. "We will do everything in our power to restore your sight again, and that is a promise."

Harry nodded, as that was the only way he could communicate without speaking. "Thank you..." He was silent for a minute and then spoke again. "Please... please, sir, can you make it go away?"

Severus sighed and rubbed his face with his long fingers. This was what he had been expecting, but at the same time hoping would not come. He knew the desperation for it all to end that came with pain, and he also knew that it could rise above all other disires.

"I don't know what I can do. I'm sorry."

--

**Hope you liked this! I still don't think it is my best, but it is better than the last one, in my opinion. Hope Harry seemed alright. This chapter focuses more on Severus, if you didn't notice. lol. Well, please review. I'm not sure- should Severus give Harry something for pain, or should Harry have to live through it himself?**

**Review!**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

The potions bottles clinked together as Severus rummaged through the cupboard as fast as he possibly could, hearing the silence that once again that reigned the room as a threat. Harry had asked again for something to ease his pain, and Severus _did_ want to give him something; he hated seeing the boy he had come to care for so deeply hurt. But Severus, for all his vast knowledge that he had learned over the years, wasn't sure what to give him. Blindness, which was what Harry seemed to be experiencing, was more complicated than what Severus had explored over the years. It wasn't something that could simply be treated with a spell or a potion; it went deeper than that, because it not only affected the eyes as a seperate body part, but it also affected the brain when it was transmitting images from the direct view of the eyes to what actually translated the pictures into a feeling or sense. Even Severus didn't completely understand the technicalities of what went through the brain and eyes; that was a Muggle science, he knew, called optemology or something like that, and he wasn't extremely interested, to say the least; but he had to search anyway to see if he had anything that would help.

His frist instinct had to simply give Harry a strong painkiller and maybe a dose of Sleeping Draught, but when he had thought on it he had realized that in his fragile state Harry probably shouldn't strain his brain any longer to sustain life even through sleep. Severus knew that if Harry fell asleep, it might be extremely hard for him to wake up. The pain medication probably wouldn't affect him, but Severus was still inclined to look.

Purple, red, green, blue, yellow, and every other color of the rainbow colored the bottles that were in the cupboard; reading the labels in his own special shorthand as fast as humanely possible, Severus pushed more and more vials of the multi-colored substances out of the way as more and more potions proved to be unhelpful to the cause. Pepper-up Potions, Stimulating Elixers, The Draught of the Living Death (only for informational purposes), and Felix Felicis, among other things, were in his special storeroom; but he knew the effects of all those potions, and none of them were given more than a second glance. He had almost emptied out the entire cupboard before he came upon a small bottle, a potion he hadn't used or thought of in years.

_The Shock Elixer: meant especially for those in both severe pain and suffering extreme mental trauma. Relaxes, soothes, and eases the person's fear until they are calm enough to do something productive in their pain. Use in small doses._

Breathing a sigh of relief, Severus grabbed the bottle quickly and, in his haste, slammed the door of the cupboard shut with a slam that shattered some of the bottles. Ignoring the sounds of clinkling glass falling to the bottle of the cabinet as he rushed to Harry's bedside, he found the boy exactly how he had left him.

Harry had quietly asked Severus earlier to help him sit up, and ever since then he had been staring blankly at what looked to be a wall but Severus knew to really be the utter blackness that filled his entire being. He felt for the boy; he had had to break his own mind earlier in his life, of course, but he had not ended up blind. Severus guessed that if he had been blind, he would be dead twenty times over by now.

"Harry?" Severus said quietly, standing hesitantly next to the bed.

"What?" Came the quiet response, no emotion coming from the child on the bed.

"I've found something to ease your pain and your fear."

Harry's face lifted, and Severus was grateful that Harry hadn't caught his slight slip-up about fear. He knew the boy wouldn't appreciate it, but he hadn't been able to keep a bit of his normal sarcasm from creeping into his speech.

"What will it do?"

Severus sighed as he obediently read the bottle to the boy. "_The Shock Elixer: meant especially for those in severe pain and suffering extreme mental trauma. Relaxes, soothes, and eases the person's fear until they are calm enough to do something productive in their pain._"

Harry was quiet for a moment before responding. "Is that what I have? 'Severe mental trauma?' "

"...Maybe." Severus answered hesitantly, staring at the boy he knew couldn't see him with an appraising eye.

Harry sighed. "You're probably right. Severe mental trauma... I don't know about the 'mental' part, but trauma is right. I feel like I'm going to die."

Jumping at his chance, Severus spoke directly to the point. "This will help ease your pain," he pointed out again.

Harry's demeanor brightened considerably, but his eyes still remained the dark, cloudy green that showed an evident problem. "Please... can I have it? Sir?"

Severus smirked as he realized the boy was trying to be polite, even in his situation. But as he was laughing quietly to himself, he saw Harry's eyebrows meet on his forehead as the boy grimaced, probably in pain.

"What's wrong?" Severus said. He guessed that it was just lingering pain, but he had to ask.

Harry was hesitant in his answer. "The memories don't seem to go away," he said thoughtfully, his voice returning slowly the more he spoke. "They keep replaying in my head. They aren't as bad, because they don't physically hurt me anymore- but they _won't go away_! Why won't they go away?"

Severus could hear the whine in Harry's voice, but he chose to ignore the Gryffindor brat's weakness because of the immense pain he knew he was feeling because of the memories. "They will go away," he said slowly. "Fight them, Harry. They won't go away on their own. You have to do it."

Harry nodded and took the medicine from Severus, reaching slowly out wiht his hand until he found Severus' offered hand and then clamoring until he found his mouth.

As he swallowed the purple liquid, Severus watched in anticipation. He knew that the potion normally had an immediate effect.

Severus gasped and cried out when Harry slumped over, his head lolling on his chest.

His eyes never closed.

--

**Please review! A bit of a cliffie...**


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Severus cried out when Harry's eyes remained open, despite the evident slumber that the boy was experiencing. The potion shouldn't have had that effect, he thought sullenly to himself. Far from it... Harry should be feeling a blissful relief from the pain that was tormenting him, instead of falling further and further into the point of no return.

Severus sighed as he gently slapped the boy's face. He had thought they were past the worst; he had thought that for once, everything would work out all right for the boy. Because now, Severus realized that instead of the boy always being cocky and arrogant, he really had had a difficult life, and nothing had ever worked out for him. Severus hoped that this time, Harry wouldn't lose the thing that mattered above all- his life. Severus really had thought that Harry's survival was ensured now because the boy had returned to consciousness, but that proved not to be the case. More and more complications just kept rising up, an endless array of catastrophes that kept intensifying in strength as they came. Severus wasn't sure how much fight Harry had left in him; he didn't want to admit it, but he was surprised the child had made it this far.

As he ran quick diagnostic spells, Severs couldn't help but compare Harry's level of pain tolerancy to his own. He had to admit that the boy had a remarkably high strength to handle pain; but still, Severus, who still had a bit of pride embedded in the tightly closed brain of his, was disinclined to say Harry's beat his own. He had always had to handle more pain than any human thought even possible, and he had survived and lived through it to be still standing; as a result, his tolerance for pain was extremely high, and because of that his role as a spy was achievable. He did it well, and that very tolerance was what had helped him survive many times. Not many people could do what he did.

But still, Severus also couldn't deny that Harry was strong, stronger than he had originally given him credit for. The boy had survived the pain of the _Mirren Incantem_, a spell so deadly Severus wished he didn't even have the knowledge of it in his brain; he had also survived being the 'Chosen One' for so long, a burden Severus hadn't recognized before; and abuse was obviously a factor, and having survived both the physical and the mental and emotional scarring from such abuse was extremely difficult. Severus could vouch for that. Harry truly _had_ overcome a lot, and Severus regretted that he hadn't seen it before.

Frowning, Severus ran the diagnostic spells yet again. His first ones ahdn't shown anything strange; they had shown a small boy with a history of abuse, lying on his stomach now, who was showing signs of blindness and severe pain that was slowly fading. They showed he was sleeping. Nothing seemed wrong.

Severus knew he couldn't accept that fact, because the green eyes, shrouded now by an eerie black, were still open, staring at nothing. It didn't seem normal, even for someone struck with blindness.

Absentmindedly, Severus brushed a stray lock of hair off of Harry's forehead. He really, really wasn't sure what to do- he knew that the potion could, essentially, be dangerous if something wasn't done about it sstrange effects in Harry's body. But, as dangerous as the after-affects of a strange potion could be, Severus was still reluctant to bring the boy out of his apparently peaceful slumber, the first real rest he had had since he had been ambushed by Death Eaters and the fateful spell had been cast. Severus knew that the rest was needed, but still, his medical training outranked his feelings of pity for the boy.

"Ennerverate."

The muttered spell awakened Harry with a groan; Severus was glad that, as the potion was not normally meant as a sleeping aid, the spell for awakening sleeping persons still worked.

Harry groaned, and his eyes gained a bit of life as he regained consciousness, and Severus was immediately glad that he had woken the boy. He ran the diagnostic spells again, and nothing seemed different.

Severus sighed. Perhaps it was just a medical scare, a faux alarm that just scared everyone but really didn't mean anything. He hoped that was it; but already he could see that Harry was more realaxed and calm, his pain was fading, and his anxiety was diminishing with each breath he took. Perhpas the induced sleep was just a reaction to such extreme pain fading so suddenly...? It was all very confusing.

"Wha' was tha' for?" Harry's groggy voice spoke bearily, startling Severus out of his thoughts.

Severus smiled for the first time since Harry had come into his care, and he answered quietly but without malice. "Your sleep wasn't healthy for you." That was a deliberately vague answer, but Harry, in his half-asleep state, didn't question it any further.

"Will I die? Sir?"

"No, you won't, Harry."

Harry was silent for a moment, and he seemed to be waking up. He had been lying on his stomach, and slowly, slowly, he was inching his way over and up so that he was on his back, leaning against the headboard so he was, in essence, propped up a bit so he would have been able to see Severus if he had had eyes. His speech became clearer, and his evident relaxation from the potion was showing through. Severus could still see boy grimace deeply often, from the memories he knew were still playing and the pain he was feeling from both the mental effort and the physical power needed.

"When did you start calling me Harry, sir?" Came the hesitant question, Harry leaning back a bit further onto the bed and closing his eyes for the briefest second, giving Severus a brief, much-needed relief from the startling green that seemed to haunt him everytime he saw how different they wre from the originals.

Severus sighed, because in the expected question he knew he would have to either reveal something about himself and how he had been wrong, or he would have to reveal how in Harry's memories he had seen the abuse and terrors he had had to face. Severus wasn't particularly fond of either option, but he really had no desire to reveal himself just yet.

He didn't want to do it because he knew Harry would be embarassed and humiliated to an extent, but Severus chose to explain to Hary what he had seen in the deep, complex maze that was his mind.

"I... I had a... large part in helping you escape your mind," Severus began. "What happened was, to help you break through the layers of memories that were holding you captive, I had to view the memories to successfully break the walls."

Severus could see Harry's face visibly blanch at the thought of his most dreaded teacher seeing his private memories, so Severus rushed on in an attempt to make amends for what he viewed to be a mistake and an offense against everything Harry stood for.

"I didn't decide to do it," Seveus said quickly, his silky voice cracking a bit with emotion in his attempted apology. "It was Dumbledore; he is a meddling old fool. But, that is why I am calling you Harry. I understand now. You haven't had an easy life, and I have wronged you. I am sorry."

Severus waited in heated anticipation and worry as the boy in front of him contemplated. Instead of wearing a look of of hurt and anger, Harry wore won of confusion.

Finally, Harry said slowly, "No one's ever really apologized to me before..."

Severus waited in stunned silence until he finally regained his voice and said simply, "I'm sorry, Harry." In those three words, everything he had ever done to Harry in the past years was spoken of and meant; the years of abuse; the contempt that Severus had always aimed towards the boy; and everything else that had proved difficult was apologized for in those three wrods. The weight of emotion in them was almost too high for Severus to bear, but he kept his emotions in check with some work and concentrated on Harry's response.

Harry's head raised slowly, the blind eyes attempting to match the image with the sound. "Apology accepted..." He said, staring at the ground again. He was silent for a few moments, and just when Severus was about to break the tense silence Harry spoke again. "So I guess you know...?"

Severus didn't have to think hard to get Harry's inclination. "About... about the abuse, Harry?"

Harry nodded, looking ashamed, even though he could not see Severus.

"Yes, Harry. I know. And let me just tell you that I understand and I can relate to it, more completely than you know."

Severus gasped slightly as he realized what he had just revealed, and he carefully wtached Harry's face, wondering if the boy had caught it also.

He had.

"You understand?" Harry whispered, his face looking so desolate and so hopeful at the same time- Severus thought it was a horrible, sad, terrifying combination, because he knew that whatever he answered to either rise Harry up or bring him down.

"I understand," Severus spoke softly, sinking into a chair, preparing to admit what he wasn't proud of thinking of. "We are more similar than you or I think, Harry."

Harry nodded slowly. "I always thought we were... sir. I am not my father."

A spark of memory flitted into Severus' brain, but he ignored it, knowing it could bring no immediate good. "I know, Harry. You're not your father. I am sorry for treating you that way; it was wrong of me and I am not proud of it. But for now... how are you feeling?"

Harry said, "Better... that potion helped me. I still can't see, though, sir."

"I know. That will hopefully get better over time. The only thing that can heal this is time, Harry. I know it's not easy, but time will hopefully bring your sight back and give you peace."

--

**Long chaper, huh?! I'll say so! I hope you enjoyed it. But I haven't decided yet, and I am leavint his completely up to you guys:**

**Poll:**

**Should Severus turn out to be Harry's father in a werid twist of fate?**

**Yes  
No**

**VOTTEE! I need answers, as it will come in in the next chapter!**

**Review :)**


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Harry had fallen into a natural sleep only five minutes after he and Severus had had their conversation, and the Potions Master was more than happy to let the boy sleep if it was healthy. The green eyes were closed, and Severus had breathed a sigh of relief when the now subtle green wasn't there to haunt him; but nonetheless, Severus was beyond relieved that Harry was all right.

He couldn't believe the amount of attachment that had come to rest from his own, cold heart directly onto Harry. Ever since Lily had died, Severus had believed strongly that he wouldn't, couldn't, ever love again. Love just brought pain when everything you wanted and needed was ripped away in a terrible and cruel twist of fate, and Severus seemed to be the epitome of bad luck and a cursed life. But still, Severus couldn't deny that he had come to care for the boy. Remembering his reaction when Harry had been clinically dead both shamed Severus and enlightened him to his true feelings. He had been shocked, saddened, nearly broken, even- but Severus refused to let himself even think about breaking. That was not an option.

But he almost had, for Harry.

He had always thought of his devotion to the protection of the boy's life simply as the follow-through to a promise he had made Lily long, long ago. And half of it was true- he had made a promise, he had sworn on Lily's own blood- a mistake he had never gotten over- that he would protect her son if the need arose. And he had carried that out, for seven years of Harry's life, as much as he had hated and resented the job he had done it. His stealth and his careful deception of everything he did protected his reputation and ensured his life's continuation, at least for the time being- for keeping Harry Potter alive at all costs would surely be frowned upon at Death Eater meetings, to say the least; but still, now Severus saw that at times, he forgot his promise to Lily and only saw _Harry_, a boy who needed to be protected. Severus had carefully, strategically forgotten those moments, returning instead to his original mindset that Harry was an arrogant, ungrateful brat who lived to get into trouble and make the Potion Master's existence one of never-ending torture.

But now, as he looked on at the sleeping boy, Severus knew that Harry was nothing like James.

On the contrary, Harry was much more like Severus.

And to Severus, that was the scariest thing in the world. He didn't want Harry to turn out like he did.

Inwardly, Severus wondered if that was what being a parent meant.

As he cleaned up the room of the potions bottles that had spilled in his haste to find something to help Harry, Severus tried his very hardest to suppress the feelings of- in reality, he didn't know what he was feeling. It was like a connection, a feeling of familiarity and want for the person's happiness and protection that felt so wrong and yet so right at the same time to Severus.

If he didn't know any better, he would have to call it love.

Severus knew better. He couldn't love.

But the back of his mind told him that maybe, just maybe, he was afraid to.

He couldn't deny that.

--

_There was no more pain, Harry thought idly to himself as he blissfully drifted through peaceful nothingness. What could this be? He remembered, he remembered being alive, feeling a release from pain but not complete escape from it- he remembered talking with Snape and hearing what seemed to be- unbelievably- an apology. It all seemed as if a dream, but he saw it play in his mind with surprising clarity that made him inclined to believe it was real. So this had to be sleep, didn't it? Blessed, blessed sleep..._

_Harry wondered, in a vague, disconnected way, about the depth and reason for Snape's apology. Harry had been truthful when he said that he had never had someone truly, truly apologize to him about something that mattered; and, in a weird way, it felt good. But Harry had always thought Snape much to proud to lower himself so much to apologize sincerly to someone about something so close to the heart. He _had_ accepted the man's apology, and he was grateful for it; but Harry couldn't help but feel upset and disconcerted that the man now knew his secrets._

_Harry had always worked extremely hard to keep those secrets safe, hidden so deeply within his brain that no one could pull them out without much difficulty. Harry considered it a great feat that he had kept most of it from Snape during their Occlumency lessons fifth year; but still, even the strongest could break, and that had always been Harry's greatest fear, even surpassing Voldemort and death on the list; only Dementors rose above Harry's fear of everyone finding out the things that tormented him throughout the years. To have everyone know that the Boy-Who-Lived, the one to vanquish Voldemort, the one who had battled Voldemort more than four times in his life, was broken by his own family- that would be the ultimate torture, the ultimate humiliation that Harry simply wouldn't, couldn't, handle. _

_Harry drifted deeper into sleep, relaxing in the amazing abscence of pain that he wished he could always rest in. It was more relaxing than anything he had ever felt, and the blissful release that accompanied it gave him peace and closure that he needed. Harry almost didn't want to wake up; he didn't want to return to pain and memories that just kept playing. _

_Harry couldn't help wondering, though, as he was slipping father and farther into himself, what Snape had meant by him understanding more than Harry could know. Could that possibly mean that... he had been abused hmself? Could that even be? Could that be why the man was so hard, so deeply masked within himself that only the choicest few could break through? Harry often felt that he and Snape were more similar than they both thought, but he had always quickly squashed those feelings because of the immediate hatred that had always shown through in the man's actions._

_Harry drifted off, his mind taking away any immediate thoughts until he was completely immersed in blissful slumber, a piece of mind so peaceful that Harry felt nothing, heard nothing- not even when a large bang sounded at the door._

_--_

"Severus?" Came the call after a large knock on the door sounded. "Severus? Are you in there? How are things going?"

Severus sighed angrily as he recognized the voice as the Headmaster's. "Yes, Albus," he said with a huff. "Come in..."

The old, supposedly 'wizened' man stepped into the room, his long beard standing out startlingly against the purple star-crossed robes that seemed to always be present and yet still never failed to startle Severus. His face was concerned, but Severus knew it was all a mask; everything the Headmaster did was a mask. Severus was one of the few people who truly knew how huanted the man was, and he in turn felt sorry for Dumbledore; but he resented him for how his own mask and his own problems affected everyone around just because of Dumbledore's imperfections.

"How is he doing? Severus? Did you hear me?" Dumbledore said loudly, waving his hand in front of Severus' face. "Severus?"

Severus shook his head. "Sorry, Headmaster. He... he is sleeping now."

Dumbledore's blue eyes brightened. "He's saved, then?"

Severus was again angered at the way Dumbledore could so easily talk about something so hard to experience as the pain both he and Harry had gone through. It was nothing to him, and Severus hated it. However, Severus controlled his anger and was able to answer calmly.

"He's not out of the woods yet, but he is alive."

"And how did you explain your part in his survival?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and suddenly Severus understood.

It was all a manipulation. A manipulation for him and Harry to form a good relationship, so they could support one another. So that Severus could be the one to bear the brunt of Harry's pain instead of Dumbledore. So that Severus would willingly carry that burden.

The worst part was, it had worked.

--

**Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll. I had a lot of reviews last chapter, more than normal, and it made me really happy. We are over 100! It is amazing! I really appreciate it. Most of the people voted 'yes' for Severus turning out to be Harry's father, and there were only like 2 votes for no. However, I do have my own personal inclination, and I haven't decided yet. So please feel free to vote in the poll still, or express your opinions further in a review. I know I said I would put my decision in this chapter, but I just started leaning towards it here. THis was a bit of a filler chapter... I will admit that... but it is still important. I hope you liked it. So, as always, vote in the poll, and then I have another one for it: **

**Should Severus tell Harry all about Lily and James? Or shoudl he keep it to himself because it is painful to talk about. Also, should Severus tell Harry about his father, or should he just leave it at 'I Understand?' **

**Let me know.**

**Review!**


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Severus sighed and rubbed his face as he reclined in the large, overly soft chair that he was currently sitting in. The Headmaster was sitting across from him, and Severus had temporarily suspended is anger with the man because as much as he didn't want to admit it, he _really_ needed someone to talk to. Even someone as strong as Severus Snape couldn't deal with all of his feelings on his own, no matter how much he thought or wished he could.

Dumbledore rubbed his long, steepled fingers against his temples, his blue eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "These feelings are only natural, Severus," he said kindly, a small smile dancing behind his lips.

"No, they aren't," Severus growled back, his eyebrows raising in doubt as he watched the older man with both respect, love, anger, and contempt, a surprisingly startling combination that seemed to define Severus' life. "Not for me. You know me, Albus. I'm a hard man."

"Maybe so, Severus," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes sparkling all the harder. "I know your history; you don't have to explain it to me, or anyone else."

"Maybe Harry," Severus muttered under his breath, quiet enough so that anyone else wouldn't have caught the words; but Dumbledore, his hearing sharpened from many years of whispering spells and sharing secrets, hung onto every word.

"Tell Harry, Severus?" Dumbledore said sharply. "I am not advising against that- not at all, I think it is a fantastic idea- but what is your reasoning?"

"I can't help it, Albus!" Severus said, a bit desperately, his resolve breaking piece by piece. "I have held…. So much… in for so long, and it's not as easy as you would think."

"I know that, Severus-" Dumbledore began, but the younger man quickly continued.

"He has experienced the same thing as me, Albus," Severus said, his voice gaining a pained twang to it as he spoke. "The exact same thing. The abuse, the loneliness, the pressure- and now, the Mirren Incantem. The exact same thing, Albus!"

Black met blue, and each stared at each other for a long time, eyes hardened by pain and suffering but hopefully not broken by it. The unbroken connection continued for a long time, each man imploring to the other to understand.

Finally, Dumbledore sighed. "I understand, Severus. But I only must ask what you will gain from sharing this information with young Harry."

"He's not so young."

"Maybe not. But he deserves to be treated as so."

"And why is that?" Severus sneered, effectively avoiding the question Dumbledore had posed, of which he was quickly trying to come up with an answer. Because in reality, Severus didn't know _why_ he wanted so badly for Harry to know and understand his own personal pain. Severus didn't really think he would gain anything personally out of it, at least on the surface; but deep inside him, Severus wanted, _needed_ someone who could relate to what he had suffered. To have someone who could relate, who could share in the pain- who could sympathize- would mean the world. He had thought he had gotten over the pain of it, he had forgotten but not forgiven- but now that he was reminded just how badly abuse and mistreatment could scar and shatter a life, old wounds were open and Severus wanted to share that pain with Harry, so they both could heal. It was a new feeling to him, and Severus couldn't really describe it- he wasn't even sure if he wanted to describe it, or even feel it.

"Because, my boy," Dumbledore answered softly, "those who have been treated badly and nearly broken, no matter how old they are, deserve love."

Severus swore angrily under his breath. Trust the old man to hit his feelings spot on, first try. That was the truth of it, he silently admitted to himself as he sat in the chair, trying his hardest- and succeeding, he thought proudly- to not let his emotions show. As much as he did- and always had- hated the boy, he couldn't bear to see another soul turn out as tortured as his was. He couldn't stand it.

And even Severus knew that he wouldn't be able to say aloud that he truly, truly hated Harry now.

Finally, Severus choked out with a voice more laden down by anger and emotion than hurt and pain, "So what do you suggest I do, old man?"

Dumbledore's smile both encouraged and scared Severus.

--

Harry awoke with a groan, his mind beginning immediately its constant battering with memories. He tried his best to shut them out, using the remnants of Occlumency lessons that he could barely remember, but he failed miserably and gave up after only a few feeble attempts. His head hurt badly, and his brain seemed fuzzy- Harry reached around blindly until he found his glasses, which helped restore his vision and also his peace of mind. The room was empty, and Harry had to admit that he didn't recognize the place. He could vaguely remember being there for quite a long time, healing- or trying to heal- and fighting his way through his memories with Snape's help- he shuddered at that thought- but he immediately repressed all of those thoughts in favor of something more productive.

Like wondering if there was any food around.

Harry waited in a weighted and uncomfortable silence until Snape entered the room with a soft click of the door, the man's ever-present robes billowing menacingly. Harry lay still as he waited for the man to notice him, not really wanting to betray the fact that he was awake just yet.

Severus flustered around the room for a minute before reaching Harry's bed, when his eyebrows rose evenly. "How are you feeling?" Severus asked, carefully avoiding addressing Harry directly because in truth, he wasn't exactly sure what to call him- 'Harry' or 'Potter'?

Harry nodded slowly before answering truthfully. "Hungry, sir," he said quietly.

Severus nodded. "That's good… it means your body is beginning to return to its normal functions, and that is, of course, a good sign. But first… I am afraid that I must heal your body."

Harry frowned. "Didn't you already do that?"

Severus frowned also, because he didn't really have a good answer for that. "I should have," he answered honestly, and he smirked a bit when he saw Harry look surprised at his response. "And I am again sorry, but your mind was in too urgent of a condition to truly devote myself to anything other than that."

Harry accepted that answer with a nod, and waited for Severus to continue.

Sighing, Severus said, "Where do you hurt the worst?"

"My back and my head."

Satisfied, Severus nodded before instructing Harry to remove his shirt and lie down on his stomach. Harry did so with some hesitation; but when Severus moved away back to his Potions cupboard, Harry complied quite easily. Severus smirked behind the protection of his back about the boy's embarrassment- but he knew that there would be more lying beneath that shirt than the after-effects of the great fall Harry had experienced.

Harry was lying on his stomach, his shirt draped neatly over the headboard, when Severus turned around. The boy's eyes were squeezed shut, as if afraid- Severus vowed at that moment to be as gentle as possible, as not to scare the child, and also to reassure him that he would not be harmed in this environment- and hopefully, not ever again.

Just as Severus had predicted, many scars crossed Harry's body. That was not unexpected.

What scared Severus was the sheer number of the scars.

There were white ones and red ones and black ones, ones that left a deeper mark in the skin and ones that simply left an impression, a line of a memory of pain. Every inch of Harry's back was covered, some intertwined more than once to create what would have been a beautiful combination in any other circumstance. But here, it was not beautiful.

Far from it.

Severus couldn't help but see the similarities between Harry's back and his own, and he felt tears rise up unbidden in his eyes.

He finally found his voice and said, "Harry, child, sit up." He didn't care about calling the boy 'Harry' anymore.

Harry complied, clutching his shirt to his chest and leaning back, looking at where Severus' voice came from to determine the direction the man was in. He tilted his head quizzically.

Severus slumped down into the chair next to Harry's bed, and said, "I'm afraid I can't hold this in any longer. The scars on your back-" –Harry tensed, but Severus just continued- "-the scars on your back, they remind me so much of my own."

Harry was silent, his own face unreadable. Severus was inwardly impressed. He didn't know the boy could do that, especially as well as he was demonstrating.

"I think it has come time," Severus said quietly, his own voice shaking in regards to what he was about to speak of, "to tell you my own story. Because in sharing stories of pain, there comes healing."

Harry nodded slowly. "I'm listening… sir."

--

_**Hope this chapter was alright. I had to do more physical conversation in this chapter instead of the in-their-minds stuff. Hope you liked it!**_

_**Please review!**_


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Harry settled back contentedly on his bed, relaxing behind the black curtain that served as his present sight. Severus also leaned back in his seat, momentarily closing his eyes and fortifying his Occlumency shields quickly in an attempt to mentally strengthen himself. He hated talking about his past; it opened old wounds, made blood that had long since dried pour out again. Severus had always been apt at not only Llegimency and Occlumency, but repressing memories in the deepest, almost unobtainable dark depths of his mind. Those memories hurt too much to revisit, so Severus was undeniably glad that he could at least make it so he would not easily remember them at any given time. Severus couldn't help thinking, and part of him hoping, that Harry would be able to learn that skill eventually. It was immensely helpful in dealing with traumatized or abused victims, as Severus had learned as a teacher; many of his Slytherins were abused by their Death Eater fathers, which made Severus despise the Dark even more.

Pulling his mind back to the present reality, Severus took a dep, heavily weighted breath. Harry listened intently, noting the heavy sigh as an indication that Snape was about to reveal something deep and close to his heart. Harry couldn't help wondering that if he would have to reveal his own secrets afterwards; but pushing those thoughts away, Harry began listening, for Snape had begun speaking.

"My life was never easy. As a young boy, I was left on my own for most of my childhood, and that has shaped my life almost as much as anything else I can recognize.

"My mother, Eileen Prince, was a hard-working woman who spent every day of her life either laboring at her job or caring for me. I respected her and loved her more than I could ever say; she was my comfort, my rock, in my times of despair and in the trials that seemed to face me so often.

"It was for my mother that I tried so hard to stay strong throughout the horrible childhood that I experienced at the hands of my father. My father, Tobias, was an angry man, to say the least. He was a drunkard, an alcoholic, who's fury and violence at the world and everything around him was taken out on me. I was his slave, essentially, when he was conscious and sane enough to recognize my prescence as being one of a real person. Mostly, he saw me as a punching bag.

"In the beginning, as a young child, it was my mother who healed me and wiped away my tears. I didn't understand what I had done wrong to make my daddy so mad at me, and from that first incident on I tried the hardest I could to be good so I could please him. I tried to surprise him by having what I knew he would want ready for him beforehand, but nothing I seemed to do seemed to be enough. There was always a loophole, always something I had missed, no matter how hard I tried to get it all right. He just demanded more and more and raised the expectations higher and higher, and as the years progressed his consumption of alcohol and other substances also increased. It was a never ending circle- it was like I was trying to fit that circle of pain into a square of how my childhood should have been. It was hopeless, pointless. Nothing I did was ever good enough.

"That was the beginning of the end, the beginning of my descent into darkness. I grew harder- my only desire was to protect myself, and along with that came a.... desire... to hurt those who hurt me. I hadn't planned to be that way, and I hated the way I constantly felt- but I had no choice. Eileen supported me in every way possible, giving me smiles and hope in most of my darkest moments, but even that wasn't enough. I began healing myself, and from there spawned my love of Potions and the healing arts. But I have no doubt in my mind that that was what drove me to the Dark in my teenage years- the desire, the want, the craving, the _desire_, to have no one hurt me _ever again._ I wanted, needed that power so badly, because the pain that had been inflicted on to me by my father was what influenced my decisions- and unfortuanently still does."

Harry was completely silent during Snape's revelation, and Severus was immensely glad for it. He had only told his story twice before- once to Dumbledore, and once (in part) to the Dark Lord- and it was hard enough without questions to remind him of the pain. He was trying his hardest to speak with empty words, telling the story but feeling nothing.

He wasn't succeeding. The pain was still fresh, still there.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Severus continued. He was glad that Harry couldn't see the tears that were pricking at the back of his black, black eyes.

"My scars are very similar to yours, Harry. Across my back, across my chest, everywhere imaginable that would bring pain. I'm afraid I can't relate to you exactly what happened, because that is far too deep in my mind and I have absolutely no desire to bring it to light again. But let me tell you, and I am sure you can comprehend and relate to this, that the memories I saw in your mind are not to far off from what mine were. Pain and suffering defined my life, carving scars and lessons learned into me that I have never forgotten to this day. Abuse is a tragic thing, Harry, and I hope you know that no one- no one- deserves it."

Severus took another deep breath.

"I must admit now that I was weak. Not weak physically- I endured, and to this day I carry the signs of that endurance on my body- but I was weak mentally, emotionally. I let my pain control me. I fell to the Dark, I literally _fell to the pain_. I let the things I was feeling control my life, instead of me making my own decisions. My father's beatings dominated and decided what I could and could not do. The pain in itself limited me. My relationship with my mother was strained because she could not bear to see me in pain, yet she could not do a thing about it. She was afraid.

"I was weak there too, as much as it stings me to admit it. I was afraid too. I was afraid of my father, because he was so much bigger than me, and he just seemed to _hate me so much_. As a child, that was the hardest thing to accept. Every child wants- needs- to be loved by their mother and father, and it is that love that guides and leads them and brings them home later in their life. But I didn't have that love- perhaps by my mother, in the simplest but purest of forms, but not from my father, who only took advantage of me to pour out his frustrations similarly as he just kept pouring drinks. I was weak, because I let it happen when I could have been doing something about it.

"We are similar, Harry, me and you. I see the similarities, and I know you do also. But the difference is, you were not weak. You had no opportunities to break away. You had no choices. Your uncle was bigger than you, and you had no family who loved you. I had my mother, and although she barely did anything to ease or alleviate my pain besides giving me her love and healing wounds that I wished more than anything weren't present; but you, you had no one. You were all alone, Harry, and you handled it remarkably well for someone with so much pressure."

At the break in Snape's story, Harry bowed his head respectfully, accepting Snape's comment with gratitude and bidding him to go on. Severus was impressed with the respect for his difficult story that Harry was showing so gracefully.

"Do you understand, Harry? There are different kinds of weakness. Breaking does not make you weak. Sometimes, allowing yourself to break can be what makes you the strongest of all."

--

**Hope this was acceptable! Please review. I actually still haven't decided if I want Sev to tell Harry about Lily and James, because now that this chapter is written it doesn't seem to have a place to fit in very well. I was going to add it after Sev's little speech about his life, but it just seemed really inappropriate after the depth of emotion that was showed in this chapter. Let me know what you think. Also, I have yet another poll- I have quite a few undecided things in this story:**

**Should Harry:**

-Regain his sight immediately, like an instantaenous thing  
-Have his sight return gradually, with it returning as he grows stronger  
-Have his sight never return- Severus helps him grow and learn how to function in blindness in (at least in the beginning) a mentor-type relationship  
-Have limited, limited sight

**Please vote! And review, review, review! make my day! (:**


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Harry's eyes drifted close in the essence of sleep as he relaxed back on his bed. It was just so comfortable, and pain still resounded throughout his head- he wanted to shut that off immediately- but most of all, he couldn't help but remember just how amazing sleep had felt before hand. He had been completely at peace, with nothing to bother him- and the best part, there was no pain. The abscence of pain was now what Harry lived for, and as much as he hated it, it made sense to him. Pain defined his life now, and when he could relax and still have the smallest sense of normality it was a blessing.

Snape's story still echoed throughout his head, and as much as he didn't want to he could see the similarities between it and his own story. He hated it. He didn't want to have a story similar to that of one so tortured as Snape seemed to be, but now that it proved true Harry saw just how much he could learn from the man he had originally hated. He didn't want to be the broken soul that Snape had revealed to him.

Harry also couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. It sounded to him that his story was much like his own, and Harry was extremely sympathetic for whoever had suffered through everything he had. He despised his own life, now, but his hatred toward his own existence was fading with each growing year, as he gained more friendship with his companions and grew to be accepted as another son in the Weasley family.

Harry couldn't help wondering if the reason Snape was so cold was because he had never had someone to love, and someone to give him love back.

He had mentioned his mother, but Snape had also said that his mother was weak and afraid, which made her unable to do anything that would really assist him in his difficult life. Harry guessed that counted as love, in its weakest form- and he counted his own mom's death and sacrifice as the strongest form of love.

Harry sighed. He had an uncanny feeling that he would never feel quite the same around Snape anymore, now that he knew the man's story and he knew that everything he did was not just out of pure spite. Harry could understand the feeling of wanting so badly to be in control that you simply _have_ to take control- dominating over everything, your friends, your family, until everything is so perfect that your life could burst with the routine of it. Harry had always craved that routine, and it had been achieved at Hogwarts during the school year; but in the summer, the horrible collection of memories of abuse was just added to and the routine was broken. Harry had eventually broken himself of that need for control, that need for some sense of stability; but now that he had experienced his whole life yet again, his old feelings of uncertainty, anxiety, and fear returned. And he hated it.

Snape hadn't mentioned it, but Harry knew (from Dumbledore's top-secet confidance) that he was a spy for the Order, and that it was an extremely difficult job. Harry hadn't ever really seen it before, but he now realized that Snape really did suffer for his contributions. Death Eater meetings couldn't have been easy. Punishment for things that weren't even his fault had to come quite often, and Harry knew from experience that Voldemort was not a kind person to deal with.

Harry almost snorted at the irony in that statment. Voldemort certainly was _not_ a kind person.

Harry was just slipping into the realm of deep, blissful sleep when a small female voice sounded from the door.

"Harry?"

Harry rolled over onto his side with some difficulty and tried to recognize the voice, but found himself unable to. Both his sleepiness and the pain that was still buzzing in his brain were dulling his senses, making it hard for him to move, much less function properly and recognize voices, feelings, and smells.

"He's awake," another voice, a male one, said just as quietly.

"Harry?" A third voice, a female one again, said softly. Harry was glad they were talking quietly. It hurt his ears to listen to anything to loud. "Harry.... can you hear me? It's Hermione, Ron, and Ginny."

The names echoed around in his head, and Harry smiled to himself as a flash of recognition met them as they flooded through his brain. Hermione and Ron.... his best friends. And Ginny.... his girlfriend, for almost two years now. He was thinking about this, letting the good memories flood back, when the second female voice spoke again.

"Harry? Are you awake?"

Harry sat up slowly, keeping his eyes closed. He could hear the three move a bit closer to his bed, summon chairs, and sit down softly. Suddenly, he felt a hard clap on his shoulder. Harry buckled under the weight.

"Why you're eyes closed, mate- oh, oh! Hermione, what's happening to him?!"

Harry had fallen back on his bed. He was still immensely weak, as Snape hadn't been able to heal him in the man's haste to assure him that none of the tings that had happened were his fault. His hands had risen up to his face, and he was rubbing his eyes with as much force as he could handle, which in fact wasn't much. The pain that he was feeling felt almost unbearable, but Harry fought through it easily because he knew it was nothing compared to what he had endured in the darkest, scariest depths of his mind. Harry remained silent- not because he was being cruel, simply because it was just how he was feeling.

"You hit him too hard, Ron," the other voice, which Harry identified now as Ginny's now that he knew what Ron's and Hermione's voices sounded like, said. "He's recovering from a terrible ordeal."

Harry nodded to let them know he was listening, and then with some difficulty sat up again, holding his head up high.

"Can you open your eyes, Harry?" Ginny said softly.

Harry was afraid. He had always known that blind people's eyes looked different; he had seen precious few of them, due to his barely ever being allowed out of the Dursley's house, but when he had he had seen that their eyes looked glazed over, by white or black, and unfocused, as if they were trying to make something out but failing and ending up with only a nonexistent image of what could have been.

Harry was afraid.

He did it anyway.

Slowly, slowly, Harry turned his head to directly face the direction his friends' voices were coming from. Harry wasn't even sure that his eyes _had_ opened after he thought he had; the curtain of black that greeted him behind his eyes also was present in front of his eyes. It was like a heavy velvet curtain, unmovable, unseeable- just a flood of black, never-ending.

Harry's opened eyes were greeted with poorly concealed gasps and a few 'Oh, Harry!''s. Harry fought against himself to keep his face stoic, not betraying any emotion. He couldn't betray any emotion, because it hurt too badly. There was nothing he could do about his blindness, absolutely nothing. He was stuck with it until he was strong enough for it to return- or, maybe, it would never return. Harry couldn't even think about that possibility.

Ron found his voice first after quite a long while of silence. Frankly, Harry was surprised. From what he could remember, Ron had never been good with emotions. "What happened to your eyes, Harry?"

Harry gulped slowly, before carefully speaking, his voice hoarse and raspy from lack of use yet again. "I'm.... I'm, um, I'm blind."

Yet another silence followed that, and Harry felt extremely embarrassed and awkward to be in a room with three people who could very obviously see his weaknesses, laid out now for the whole world to see.

The silence was shorter this time. Both Ron and Hermione whispered, "I'm sorry, Harry," before backing slowly out of the room. Harry didn't hear Ginny leave, but he assumed he had. He sat in weighted silence for a while, listening to his own thoughts rebound in his pained head, trying to block them all out and be strong. It was just _so hard_.

Harry was surprised when he heard Ginny's small voice pierce the silence and her small body climb into his bed to sit next to him, her arm wrapping gently around his shoulders, her hair brushing his face. She was extremely gentle, as not to hurt him. Harry smiled in spite of himself.

"I don't care that you're blind," she breathed in his ear, her soft breath tickling his face and making him smile even wider. "I still think your eyes are beatuiful."

Harry leaned forward eagerly, wishing he could kiss her but unable to find the entirety of her face to fulfill his wish. As if she knew, her lips met his, and the tender kiss was what restored Harry's hope more than anything.

It was a gentle, passionate kiss, full of exploration and want and happiness at being reuinted that Harry was completely filled with the beauty and joy it gave him. He hadn't realized it, but he had missed Ginny so badly.

He had missed feeling _happy_.

He had missed loving someone, and having them love him back.

--

Ron and Hermione crept back into the room sometime later, where they found Ginny back on her chair (after a mad dash to make everything look normal on Ginny's part. Harry was really grateful to them for giving him time with his girlfriend, but he didn't say anything about it. Instead, they talked about small things, Harry pretending he wasn't blind and Ron, Ginny, and Hermione pretending he didn't look any different. Harry explained about what had happened to him, but he left out many of the big parts. He had absolutely no desire to explain his history of abuse to Ron and Hermione; he had a feeling he would be telling Ginny soon, simply because he needed the sweet release of sharing. He freely shared his memories of the immense pain that had wracked his body and the hopelessness that had seemed to invade his mind, and he also told of how Snape had helped him immensely. He did leave out, however, Snape's revelations to him.

They all had to leave eventually, and Ron and Hermione hugged Harry gently with kind, friendly goodbyes. Ginny left the taste of her kiss on his lips as she too crept out.

Harry's smile lingered on his face as he lay back down, but he didn't sleep.

Harry heard the door open again much later, and he heard the swishing of Snape's cloak, which alerted him to who the person was. Snape didn't speak, but Harry did, which actually surprised Severus, but he let it go.

"Did you send them?"

Severus understood that Harry was asking about his friends. The man's secretive smile went unknown to Harry, but the pride in Snape's voice was evident as he answered simply, "Yes."

Harry's grateful reply was what elated Severus' heart more than anything. The boy was healing. He remembered his life. He remembered his friends, and his girlfriend. He could heal.

"Thank you.... thank you, so much."

--

**Surprise! I put Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in there. Hadn't planned on doing it, it just happened. Hope it was alright. I wanted to incorporate a bit more of Harry's real life instead of just him and Severus talking, because I thought it would be more interesting and add a bit of a twist in there.**

**The poll is still open. Also, one more question, this one no choices: Should I make Harry battle Voldemort in this story, or should it be cut off beforehand and simply be a fic about healing? I am completely open to doing a much longer fic, but I wanted to ask you all. SO let me know.**

**Thanks so much for all of your reviews! Like, 150 something! that is AMAZING! Thank you all so, so much. Also, sorry for all the polls :) I just like you guys having access and input to my story.**

**Please review.**


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Harry's first discussion with Dumbledore had been highly anticipated, and as much as Severus had berated himself for doing so he had carefully instructed Harry on how to deal with the meddling old man.

"Speak carefully," he had instructed, all to Harry's attentive ear. "Dumbledore will most definitely want to know exactly what happened in your mind, and it is up to you whether or not you want to reveal that information; but be on top of what you say and how it could be used against you. Dumbledore knew you had been abused-" -Harry nodded fiercely at that, his glazed eyes taking on a fierce glare that Severus didn't know was possible in those blind orbs, but he wisely ignored it- "and he will surely want to get information so he can assess your strength."

Harry had been silent for a moment then, but Severus waited patiently. He wanted an answer for the boy, and he was prepared to use patience first before more confrontation. Finally, Harry spoke, his voice hoarse- this time not from pain or exhaustion, but from emotion.

"That's all he wants, sir. My strength."

Severus dipped his head, not giving an affirmative but also not negating Harry's statement. He wanted the boy to continue on is own, but in his heart he could feel the weight of the truth that had been spoken in those words. The old man, as vile as it seemed, really did use both Harry and Severus for only their strength. Perhaps he felt love or care for them in a deep part of his soul, but Dumbledore wore a mask that rivaled Severus' own- and neither of them could, or would, deny that. Severus was one of the only ones that knew Severus' extensive history- about his sister and his mother, and just how much Dumbledore was hurt by the happenings in his life and the mistakes he had made. Dumbledore truly was a haunted man, but the mask he had placed- the twinkling blue eyes, the ever-visible smile, and the constant presence of lemon drops- everything was a shadow of the real man, the broken man, that was hidden beneath the layer of lies.

A pawn. Severus had realized that that word was a huge part of Dumbledore's internal vocabulary long ago. They were all pawns, pieces of the puzzle in the world of 'the greater good'. Severus hated that phrase, and if he was to guess he would have said that Harry did too. But he wasn't exctly one who had an emotional insight into the boy's brain- he had seen his memories, he had felt his thoughts, and he had felt his pain- but the world was different now, and Severus couldn't deny that the boy was stronger than he had anticipated and definitely more unpredictable. 'The greater good' was a phrase that haunted Severus, and he wished more than anything that it had never come to play in the war. It only led to pain.

"I'm the Hero. The Golden Boy. The one who is expected to save the world, all because of a prophecy. And it isn't fair, sir. All he wants is my strength. And I'm tired of it. I don't have any strength left anymore."

Severus was silent for another minute before saying quietly, "I understand the feeling. I know what it means to feel hopeless, to want to give up because it hurts so bad. But the thing in this war is, you can't. Giving up means the loss of so much more- and of course, its always back to the phrase 'for the greater good', which I hate just as much as you do. The greater good is nothing more than a fantasy that someone dreamed up to give a reason to all the evil that is happening in this world. But really, giving up is only a solution for you. And in truth, we are looking for a solution to the evil that is spreading throughout the world, faster than we can even imagine- faster than anything we can even hope to stop. Giving up is not the answer, and thinking yourself weak is not a solution. In fact- making it not an option is the goal.

" 'The greater good' is a cliche and a joke; but striving for something better, for something that will help the entire world- that isn't something to mess around with. It _is_ up to you, Harry, and it isn't easy. But you are strong enough. I hadn't thought you were originally- but now that I see, now that I am not blinded by my own ignorance, it is as clear as anything that you _are_ strong enough. You have lived through what precious few could, and I understand- again, more than you can ever know- and again I will say this. Breaking does not make you weak. Giving yourself up, even when it hurts, for the good of someone else- irrevocably, without holding anything back- that is what makes you strong." Severus stared hard at Harry, knowing the boy couldn't see him, but hoping the boy could somehow feel the integrity in the older man's gaze.

" 'The greater good,' " Harry said scornfully after a while. "Isn't that just wonderful. I've heard that before. But isn't it ironic that all the deaths that have happened so far- my parents, Sirius, Mad-Eye, countless others- they would be passed off as 'for the greater good' too? For 'the greater good'. We call ourselves such an advanced society, but we make sacrifices. And not little ones, either. Big ones. Lives are in play- take and give, live or die- it is all a joke, it is all a game- and it requires a price that I'm not willing to pay."

"So that's it? You're going to give it all up?" Severus fought hard to keep the disbelief out of his voice, because as much as he didn't want to admit it he could understand the boy's point of view.

"I don't know." Harry said truthfully, his face taking on a contemplative look that made him appear more scholarly than Severus normally thought him to be. "You're right, sir, that it isn't the answer. And I would be even more of a coward if I sunk that low- if I broke under the pressure, if I gave in to the demands. But breaking makes me _feel_ weak. I can't help that, because it's the truth. I don't want to leave everthing behind. The only question is, am I strong enough to go on?"

That statement was left hanging as Albus Dumbledore came banging through the doors, walking with a purposeful stride towards a lost Severus and a nearly broken Harry.

--

"You're sure you don't remember anything else, m'boy?" Dumbledore said, gazing at Harry with a contemplative look. It had come as quite a shock to the old man to see Harry, his pawn, was blind- and Dumbledore had to admit that he was quite disheartened. His plans would certainly have to change now- complications had arisen that were far more difficult to overcome than Dumbledore had expected. In truth, Dumbledore also felt sorry for the boy. It was true that he manipulated him, probably past the limit of what was fair (but Dumbledore strategically ignored that fact), but Dumbledore did know how to feel remorse and now was a perfect time to feel it.

Harry lowered his face, as if the texture of the bed covers was now the most interesting thing to his wandering fingers, looking for something concrete to grab a hold of, like a lifeline. "I would have told you if I did, sir."

Severus smirked in his corner at the boy's wilyness, but didn't say anything. The old man's reaction should be interesting.

"Well... I know you are in a lot of pain, Harry, and I am sorry for that, truly I am-" -both Severus and Harry silently snorted at that- "-but surely you remember something else. You have told me about the dark, and the pain, and the memories flashing by, but you have not told me how you survived. That, m'boy, is truly the most crucial part of the problem. Surely you have ideas?"

Harry's eyes lit up, betraying no emotion or signs of life, only a small spark. "Magic?" he suggested.

At that, Severus had to laugh. He did so quietly, almost silently, of course, but it was just _so_ amusing to see the old, meddling coot splutter and look confused as Harry smirked.

"Magic is not the answer to everything." Dumbledore finally got out.

At that, Harry immediately sombered, as did Severus, thinking about the meaning and truth of those words.

"I know."

--

**Relatively boring chapter, but I found that it wouldn't be really realistic if Harry didn't think about giving up through the was also a bit of a bonding moment- I hope Severus wasn't too OOC. Was he? **

**Please review. **


	21. Chapter Twenty

Things had begun to return to normal. Perhaps not better for anyone, but life for those residing at Hogwarts for the summer months had fallen into a comfortable, loose routine. Harry had been moved up to the hospital wing; he was now Madam Pomfrey's semi-permanent patient, as of course Severus could not watch him for the entire summer- he was busy with his own plans and of course he probably would not react to kindly to that job anyways. Harry _was_ improving- his body was beginning to return to normal, and as haunted as his mind still was, he was healing. The boy had gained a sarcastic attitude, one that Severus didn't particulary appreciate, but unusually for him he hadn't said anything about it. He knew it was the mask Harry had put up; the attempts at humor were to hide everything he felt, and Severus couldn't deny that he had never used that tactic himself.

Severus wasn't sure what to do anymore to help Harry except let his mind work the pain through. The boy spent both his sleeping and his waking hours immersed in dreams, both nightmares and daydreams, that haunted him and made him scream as much as he tried not to. Severus couldn't deny now that he cared for the boy, at least in some way, and he didn't even try to deny it to Dumbledore anymore; but he felt sorry for the boy's pain and wished he could do something more.

Harry had asked for a lot of time alone, and they were all more than happy to oblige. Madam Pomfrey was always watching with a mindful eye from her office, but other than that Harry was left alone, free to think and contemplate and in all essence dream. It was in those times that Severus and Dumbledore almost always talked together, either about Harry's condition or about what the new plan would have to be for saving the world now.

"It might be a mental block," Severus suggested to Dumbledore one day, and at his statement the old man's eyes twinkled like mad.

"You knew?" Severus accused angrily. "Why must you always keep things to yourself, old man? Some information is better shared!"

"I always have a reason," Dumbledore defended himself with a smile, "even if it might be those blasted lemon drops doing the thinking for me. I swear, McGonogall must lace them with something. They make me crazy... but they are so addicting..."

Severus was feeling strange that day. Something had changed in his heart, and he wasn't sure what it was- he didn't fully understand it- but he had been almost _happy_ since Harry had come out of his coma-like state, in-between life and death, a place no one would ever want to be. He had seen what could be lost; he had felt the pain of knowing that everything _was_ lost; and Severus had to admit that he never wanted to be there again, because it was such a hopeless feeling. He had tried to say that it was just the loss of hope, the loss of the Savior, that had made him feel that way; but now he knew that it truly was Harry, the boy he had grown to love with just a little bit of his heart.

And with those strange feelings, Severus asked, without having a clue of what he was doing or why, for a lemon drop.

--

"They were strangely addicting." Severus said to Harry, watching the boy smile. He had never thought he would be sharing something even relatively intimate with the spawn of James Potter, but here he was- and it almost felt normal. He had already shared the story of his father, anyway; talking about everyday things seemed to be a walk in the park, now, in comparison.

"Are they what makes Dumbledore almost.... senile?" Harry said with a smile, and Severus smiled under the pretense that Harry couldn't see him.

"Maybe not senile. But crazy, yes."

"Are you crazy now, sir?"

"Maybe. But maybe I was before."

Harry was quiet after that for a moment, and Severus let the depth and meaning of his words sink in before speaking again.

"I think that your blindness is a mental block."

Harry hesitated before responding. "I think you're right. I... I can feel it, just on the edge of my consciousness, a block that doesn't let me see anything. I'm not sure I can break it... and then again, if I could, I'm not sure I would. I have to admit, sir... that I'm scared of breaking that. I don't know why, but it is almost like a protection. It wouldn't help me not see my memories; I know that. But I don't think I can break the block."

"You know what that means," Severus answered, not regretting the almost indifferent tone his words took on. Harry shouldn't make such a important decision if he didn't understand what the implications of that decision meant.

Harry nodded slowly. "I know, sir. I'm blind."

--

Harry had quietly asked Madam Pomfrey if he could practice walking around the hospital wing, and she had complied; but when he asked her at the same time to please keep it a secret from Snape and Dumbledore, she had hesitated."Why, dear?"

Harry had been quiet for a minute, and it had been his decision to reveal his true inclinations to her.

"I hate feeling weak, Madam Pomfrey. And right now, I feel weak. I'm blind, and I can't do anything. I can't break the block that is keeping my sight away. But... I can feel something on the edge of my consciousness, something I hadn't ever thought possible. I can feel the things around me, almost as if I have a mental picture of the room and where I am from my magic. I think I might be able to move around if I reach out with my consciousness. I think it's... like Occlumency or Llegimency, or something? I don't know."

Madam Pomfrey had smiled. "That is not unheard of, Harry dear," she said kindly. "Not many people can achieve it. You are welcome to use this room to practice walking blind. I will dull all the corners for you..." With that, Harry heard the wave of her wand and a muttered spell.

He commenced practicing, and he had smiled to himself when he found that it really worked.

--

"Harry?" Severus said softly, coming into the room to wake the sleeping boy. "Harry, wake up."

The boy groaned and began whining, but when he recognized the voice his eyes opened and he said, "Sir?"

"Dumbledore says you have to work on being able to cast spells at objects without being able to see them. I am supposed to teach you, and now is an appropriate time, so please get up and get ready."

Harry got up while Severus waited for him outside the door. He smirked knowingly; Snape would _certainly_ be in for a surprise when he saw that Harry wasn't completely blind.

--

Harry and Severus had just gotten outside to the Quidditch pitch, where they would be practicing, when Dumbledore came running out to them with surprising speed for such an old man. "Severus! Severus... he found out about Harry. He's going to attack- and soon!"

--

**Woowww. Not my favorite chapter. At _ALL. _Sorry. Oh well... Please review.**


	22. Chapter Twenty One

Harry's world was thrown into chaos as everything spun around him. Snape's hand on his arm disappeared at Dumbledore's words, and Harry felt alone in a confusing place that he wasn't familiar with. Immediately Harry reached out with his mind, and was comforted by the knowledge that Snape was only a few steps away, conversing with Dumbledore; but still Harry felt alone. He could only hear snippets of their words, but he could get the main idea- Hogwarts, the one place everyone had always thought was safe, was now endangered.

Because of him.

Harry shook away those thoughts and concentrated on moving- he couldn't very well stay there, for he feared that Dumbledore or Snape would forget about him in their haste. Reaching out even farther with his mind and grasping the dull shadow of his surroundings (Harry was so glad he had learned that skill), Harry moved slowly, painstakingly up the steps. Each step seemed to be yet another challenge, for he had to analyze each one. He marveled silently to himself about how when you could see, everything seemed so easy. It was just a matter of going and looking, and then everything set into place perfectly with the combination of your mind and your body moving as one. But when you were blind, everything was different. No longer did the body and the mind work as one- they were separated. Similarly, the mind still sent commands to the body- move here, go there- but the body couldn't follow. It was like a broken marionette doll- the strings can move, but the doll is broken, never to be moved by the strings again.

Harry walked with his mind reached out as far as it could go without bringing unbearable pain to his already fragile emotions, and with his hands held straight out as his feet moved according to his mind's image and his brain's instructions. It was a complicated process, Harry pondered as he moved slowly, finally reaching the top of the steps that led to Hogwarts and the main doors. Entering in, Harry was faced with yet another difficulty- more steps and doors and countless other rooms that Hogwarts housed. It was so easy to get lost in the huge building, even when you weren't blind, that Harry feared losing himself and never being able to find it again.

Harry laughed quietly to himself as he walked, realizing that neither Snape nor Dumbledore had come thundering in behind him to ask how he had gotten where he was and more importantly, why he had left their watchful eye. Harry didn't feel like explaining, so he was glad they hadn't- but he was also disheartened when he realized that it meant they probably hadn't even noticed he was gone.

As he walked, Harry sighed, realizing what that meant. They hadn't even noticed he was gone. Hadn't that been the story of his life when he had been living at the Dursleys' house as a slave, a freak of nature? Hadn't they never even noticed or cared what he was doing unless it was something wrong? That had seemed to be predominately the case everywhere he went, except with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny- and now Snape, when Harry thought on it- but regardless, he was seen as unworthy. He had always been, and he hated it- but really, what could he do?

Harry had always been strong enough for himself. He had always had to work through everything on his own, figuring out his own problems and finding answers- he had, in fact, become extraordinarily good at it due to his practice- but Harry had come to resent that loneliness, and feeling it again- the helplessness that accompanied tragedy- almost broke him yet again.

Harry sat down in a deserted corner, one quite close to the Gryffindor dorms. They had been his original destination- Harry had always felt excepted in Gryffindor, and it had come to be his home and the place he loved, even more so than Hogwarts. In the dorm, Harry had so many good memories, so many that he sometimes wondered if they could override the bad and make his life whole and complete again. But nonetheless, the Gryffindor standards- courage and bravery and yet still a strong mind- were what Harry aspired to live up to. He had always thought that he had- everyone had always told him that he had- in his many trials, facing Voldemort countless times and living through more tragedies than he could count. But really, what did it all account for now, when everything could be lost with two single words- 'Avada Kedavra?' Because those words would come, they had to. There was a battle coming up- an attack would be a better way of describing it- and there would surely be deaths. Who would expect a blind boy, even if it was the savior, the hero, Harry Potter- who would expect someone so lost to survive?

In the dark corner, Harry was alone. But he wasn't not thinking- his mind was working so fast it was almost impossible to catch up with it and slow it down so he could see what was happening. A thousand thoughts per minute were racing in front of him, leading in different paths and remembering different things and looking towards an undeniable future.

The prophecy dictated his life, Harry decided. Because of it, he didn't have his own decisions. Could he give everything up and not save the world as the prophecy said? Could he let all the innocent people die because he was afraid, because he didn't think he could do it? Harry's heart and pride told him no- that he was the hero, that it was up to him to save the world- but when he thought on it, his consciousness, his soul, told him that his own life was worth preserving. But was that selfish? Harry wasn't sure.

Voices calling jolted Harry out of his thoughts but did nothing to lift his mood. Harry started to reach out with his mind to see who was coming his way, but after a moment he decided against it and instead slumped back, eyes closed- trying not to think, trying ultimately to forget.

The tell-tale swoosh of Snape's cloak alerted Harry as to who was coming, but still the boy did not move. The man passed the small figure huddled in the corner at first, and Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief; but then, a moment later, the footsteps returned.

"Harry?" Severus said quietly, seeing the small boy in the corner. His heart almost broke at how small and forlorn the child looked. Severus could relate to the feeling of ultimate, never-ending, hopeless and helpless fear- it could break a person, and Severus hoped to the heavens that it hadn't broken Harry; but weakness was expected, and the image in front of him was the perfect depiction of it. The look in the boy's eyes, which were now open- if you looked past the shadowy substance of blindness, you could see the desparity that his eyes so tragically possessed. Severus could only imagine what the child could have- would have- felt when he heard the news that Voldemort would be attacking and people would be dying. For Severus knew not only from Harry's memories but also his personality and character that Harry would see everything as his fault, because of the prophecy that had been spoken before he was even born.

Even through his cold exterior, Severus wanted to comfort the child. But when he thought on it, Severus' brain quickly realized that comforting Harry and allowing such a show of fear- not weakness, but fear- would not be prudent or welcome in the present situation. Severus almost felt that he now understood Dumbledore's point of view- he was sad and sympathetic towards Harry, and he wished that he could take it away- he hated it, for it was not fair to expect of anyone, even the Boy-Who-Lived- but now was the time for Harry to be strong, no matter how hard or how painful it was. The prophecy called on him to be strong, but so did the world they saw him as their Savior, the one who would undoubtedly redeem them from evil. Severus recognized the injustice in that, but he knew- like Dumbledore did, he now realized, but in a much kinder and more sympathetic way- that Harry didn't really have much choice. The scar on his forehead, the mark of evil, had sealed his tragic fate when he was but a child. Unfair as it was, it was fate, and as much as Severus wished he could he could not change it.

"You can't keep hiding," Severus said cautiously, knowing that what he said truly mattered and would affect the way Harry reacted.

Harry's eyes took on a defiant- and strong, Severus noted- tone as he stood up and began to walk forward. Severus smirked to himself- Dumbledore had once told him that the Sorting Hat had been _this close_ to placing Harry in Slytherin rather than Gryffindor. Severus, of course, could see the bravery, courage, and even selflessness that the 'lions' possessed. But then again, a feeling Severus had always ignored was that Harry also had the pride and strength for oneself that was normally forced on Slytherins because of their backgrounds but that precious few really ever understood. Severus knew that Harry understood.

"I'm _not_ hiding." Harry continued, slowly but steadily, down the hall while Severus watched.

"Can you see?" Severus suddenly asked sharply, and Harry stopped abruptly and turned around to face the older man.

"Can you see my eyes, sir?" Harry said, his eyes shining beneath their shadow and his voice taking on a dull tone that betrayed evidence of the upcoming calamity. "I know what a blind person's eyes look like, and even though I can't truly see them I have no doubt that they look no different. I cannot see, sir."

Severus paused, and then he said, "How do you get around then?"

"Expanding my mind to encompass everything in the room so I can see where general things are." Came the simple reply, and Severus was astounded by the audacity and brilliance of that idea. Why hadn't he or Dumbledore thought of it themselves?

Harry continued on his way, and Snape followed closely behind him. Neither spoke, but the tension that passed between the air silently was extremely evident- both knew without a doubt that they were walking to battle, where they could lose their lives in something as easy as two little words.

--

Time was running out, and people began to arrive at Hogwarts faster than Harry could even process. He preferred to stick by himself, and Hermione, Ron, and Ginny accompanied him as he walked around the vacant grounds. They all knew that they really shouldn't be out alone, especially with an upcoming attack; but none of them could deny the rest of them the opportunity to be with one another one last time, basking in the warmth of friendship and different degrees of love before the world was thrown into chaos.

Harry had asked Hermione in a quiet moment how it was even possible for Voldemort to attack Hogwarts, for Harry had always assumed that he hadn't before because it was too heavily protected. Hermione had quickly explained that it was Dark Magic that fed off someone's weaknesses, in Harry's case his blindness and current state of mind. Hermione's revelation did nothing to improve Harry's mood, despite the way his friends insisted that none of this was his fault, that it was bound to come anyway.

The world had fallen to pieces before anyone had relized it, and the Death Eaters had been upon them in mere seconds.

It was almost surreal to Harry when he found himself walking willingly towards his death.

--

**Cliffie! Review please! I did this in another one of my fics, and I wll do it here- should Harry die? I really haven't decided, as I could and am willing to take this either way.**

**You guys decide! So review!**


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

_The prophecy. Think of the prophecy. You must fulfill it- you must be the willing sacrifice. That is why you returned, isn't it? To save the world? A willing sacrifice, like your mother. That is what you must be._

--

Harry had no idea how long the battle had been raging, but he could already tell that it had far surpassed a level that could be handled comfortably. He hadn't been allowed to- hadn't been able to- fight, and feeling helpless was something Harry had always hated. The only thing that he could do was listen to the sounds of the battle- curses being cried; screams shattering the still, dry air; and in Harry's mind, people he loved who were now fighting for him, dying left and right. He could not bear it, feeling so helpless, so useless- and that is how Harry found himself walking, as if in a trance, through the Forbidden Forest.

The Hospital Wing had been freakishly quiet. Harry had stayed there for a while before beginning to wander the deserted halls of Hogwarts- fighting was, of course, taking place within the walls of the castle, but it was a huge structure and many places were still empty. The Room of Requirement offered him small comfort for a while with a comfortable chair and a relaxing potion. That had come as a welcome relief to Harry; it was just what he needed to clear out his thoughts.

And when he had thought of Hermione, Ron, Ginny, all the Weasleys, Remus Lupin, Dumbledore, and most of all, Snape, Harry couldn't sit back and do nothing.

It had to be him.

--

Voldemort's voice had echoed around the grounds, demanding Harry as a ransom, and Harry had heard it just as loudly and clearly as everyone else. That was the only prompt he needed. This was his battle, his chance. Harry had to do this.

He couldn't deny that he was scared, because he was. He was scared to death. Dumbledore had once told him that Death was just the next great adventure, and it was nothing to fear- but Harry had heard the stories about the pain and unavoidable torture that came along with leaving life at Voldemort's cruel hands. He had no doubt that his fate would be any different- probably worse, even- but he had absolutely no regrets. He would walk solidly, strongly to his death, proud of what he would do for the world. It was the only thing that could be done. Voldemort's forces were too strong to be overthrown by the powerful but still small force of the Order- and a willing sacrifice, such as the one Lily had made. Perhaps the love in that one act would be enough.

The Forbidden Forest was desperately quiet as Harry walked through it, so slowly that someone watching would barely be able to see his motion. Expanding his mind to encompass all the trees and stones and rocks and animals and everything else around him took almost more strength than he had to spare- but tirelessly, he walked on. Harry concentrated as hard as he could not only on walking through the trees but also on thinking about absolutely nothing. It hurt to much to consider what he was going to do- he didn't doubt that it was fate, but he hated the way his life was turning out. He was back to the place of a pawn, but this time he was willing- he had his own choice, but as any good chessplayer knows the pawn will always walk into the trap. The trap this time was the battle- and the price was his life.

To think about what he was leaving behind was even more unbearable. Leaving Ron and Hermione- his two best friends, the ones who had stuck through it until the end with him- that pained his heart because he felt like he was betraying their trust. Ron and Hermione had always told Harry that they would do everything together- that in the end, it would be all of them, not just him, who ended up defeating Voldemort, whether by love or combat. Harry had over and over again warned them of the consequences of being determined to stick it out till the end, and they had both been resolute. They were the bst friends that anyone could ever ask for; and now, Harry knew that he really was betraying them. They would understand, he guessed. Dumbledore would explain it to them- a willing sacrifice, an offered life, can save others from death. Twisted magic and a terrible price- a price that Harry was willing to pay, despite the pain it brought him and others.

That might be considered selfish, Harry contemplated with just the smallest part of his brain. Many would view giving himself up as simply an act to save himself from any more pain- but he knew it wasn't, it as far from that. It was noble- and Harry couldn't deny that he hated that word, because nobility brought pride, and pride often brought downfall. The Slytherins had always been like that, and Harry had always aspired to not be like them. But now, he considered, he was walking right into their ranks. He was going to fight- he wasn't going to stand quietly while he was shot down- but it was a losing battle, and despite himself Harry could see the similarities. Draco Malfoy was a prime example- he had had no choice in anything, Harry realized that now- and he would eventually lose his life for a cause he did not care about nor was dedicated to. The world had fallen into shambles, and a selfish outlook- despite a good intent- could sometimes shape the future. He was _not _being selfish, Harry realized- no matter what people could and most likely would say.

Leaving Ginny was something Harry tried his best not to even think about- not to even consider or touch on with the smallest part of his being, for fear that his heart would rip out that very second. Ginny was everything to him, and leaving her behind was the hardest thing he had ever had to choose. He wished he would be able to say goodbye- to tell both her, and Ron and Hermione, that he loved them and that their fighting had not been in vain; to tell them that in the end, they would all be together again, but for now, this was his destiny- he wished more than anything that it didn't have to be this way. He loved Ginny, and he had loved her continuously more each day ever since he had kissed her after the Quidditch match; and ever since then, Harry had looked forward to marrying her as he knew he would and having a family with her. But now, yet another dream was broken.

Another thing Harry tried desperately not to think about was the fact that all Snape's hard work to save him from himself and his memories had indeed been in vain. He would die anyways, just later and in a different way than anticipated. He had mostly recovered from his ordeal, although he didn't completely understand what had happened- Dumbledore had promised to explain everything, but hadn't gotten around to it; and now, his life would fade away anyways. Snape's work had been in vain, but Harry accepted that as just another thing that could not be helped. Surely Snape understood willing sacrifice- Lily had been the perfect example of that, and Harry knew that Snape had always loved his mother. Snape, of course, didn't know that- Dumbledore had told him once- but the explanation had been that Snape had nearly been broken by Lily's untimely death, but ultimately he had understood the power of love that had been given and the legacy of hope that had been passed down from that moment. Harry knew Snape would understand.

After what seemed to be ages, Harry found the clearing that Voldemort and the small number of his followers that weren't fighting were gathered. He stood at the edge of the clearing for a moment, out of sight- he was indeed surprised that he could even enter unseen, but Voldemort had obviously been to cocky to think about that. He had assumed that everyone would be too precoccupied with the battle to even think about being crafty and devious- and Harry had to admit that he was probably right. But the other side was that Voldemort had probably expected Harry to come. Bloody loyalty and nobility, Harry thought to himself- it is always so predictable.

Harry quickly memorized the surroundings, taking his time to take in every little detail, every aspect of the silohuette of trees that could possibly be used to either his advantage or his disadvantage. When he was satisfied, he stepped out just a bit and immediately cast a nearly silent shield spell around himself. His training had helped- he was stronger than Voldemort would expect, and the shield charm was stronger than what most school students- disregarding Hermione, of course- could successfully accomplish.

The pale faced man turned around slowly, his red eyes glinting in the shadow of the darkness with a tint of both satisfaction and greedy excitement. "Harry Potter," he hissed, his devious smile showing manically. Harry could not see him, but he could feel the air writhing with the madman's insanity. "I knew you would come."

Harry slowly took a step forward, feeling with satisfaction his shield moving with him. "Did you?" he said calmly. "Well then, I guess courage and pride is predictable."

"I don't call what you are doing courage, Harry Potter," Voldemort said, his voice rising to an escalated tone. He flicked a spell at Harry's shield, and Harry could see it coming on his internal 'radar'- but the color of the spell was lost on him, and whether it was the killing curse or simly something to bind him or hurt him he could not tell. Nevertheless, it bounced off his shield, and Harry quickly fortified it with more power.

"A willing sacrifice, accompanied with love, is stronger than anything," Harry said simply, staring blindly ahead, looking at the general direction in which he knew Voldemort, surrounded only by two Death Eaters, was standing. "I am giving myself up, for the Light."

"And what do you think that will achieve?!" Voldemort sneered angrily, a sound that was a mixture between an incredulous laugh and a scornful scoff coming from his lips.

Harry did not answer, and after a moment Voldemort sneered yet again.

"Dumbledore's blind boy," he taunted, slowly circling around Harry, who was standing stock-still. Harry could feel that Voldemort and the two Death Eaters were slowly but surely and steadily breaking down his shield- he tried putting more power into it, but the rate at which it was breaking was much faster than the rate at which he could build it up. It was a hopeless cause. "The world's savior," Voldemort continued. "Now standing before me, helpless- wand at his side and magic accompanying him, but still no match for me. And you, Harry Potter- you will die a coward's death."

--

In the castle, as suddenly as they came all the Death Eaters dissapeared slowly but steadily, leaving behind a very confused and very broken Order of the Phoenix. Divisions of labor immediately sprang up in attempt to make as many things right as possible- for no one thought that the attack was over; it was obvious that something had happened, and most definitely either another attack or a finale would occur. Some searched for the cause of the disturbance, while many others searched and lamented for the dead and cared for the wounded.

Severus and Dumbledore had both taken it upon themselves to find Harry as soon as they could get away. Both had been injured, but not severely in the least; both were much too powerful, and many enemies had already been taken down at their words. But neither man could deny the feeling they had- and it was not a good one.

Both of them knew exactly what had happened when they could not find Harry anywhere in the castle. Harry had gone to give himself up, and there was nothing they could do about it now.

--

A line was formed across the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest facing Hogwarts, a good distance away. The fighters still standing stood in a hopeful but desperate formation, looking to the wood for some sign of- anything- something- that would tell of what had become of Harry, and essentially, what would become of their world. Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Remus Lupin, the Weasley family, Severus, and Dumbledore all stood in the very middle of the line, stoic and strong in many cases but broken in many others.

It took half an hour of silence before a dull crack pierced the silence.

The body of Harry Potter, bloodied, bruised, and broken appeared before the crowd, and the voice of Voldemort spoke through the silence.

"Harry Potter is dead."

**--**

**I was going to continue, but I couldn't resist leaving it there. Please review. This was an especially long chapter- what do you think of Harry giving himself up? Did I explain it alright? Please review, please please please! :)**

:: NOTE:: Don't be so sure Harry is dead.... remember what happened in DH?? well that is definitely a possibility. Voldemort is crazy, remember?? REVIEW!


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

A scream pierced the silence as Voldemort's voice faded away, and in an instance Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the Weasley family, Remus Lupin, Dumbledore, and Severus were all crowded around the small figure laying on the dying grass. Ginny was still screaming, and Fred and George had taken her into their arms, doing their best to comfort her. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing, as was Hermione; Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, and Remus all had tears sliding down their cheeks at an alarmingly fast rate. Dumbledore and Severus just stood openmouthed; Severus had experienced first hand the brutality that Voldemort could, would, and often did administer to his victims; but even he could have never anticipated this.

Harry's body, lying on the grass, was so broken that it was almost unbearable to look at. Blood and gore and all things imaginable covered his body, making it nearly unrecognizable- the very epitome of agony was what it displayed. Severus, having known what Voldemort's torture was like, could only imagine what the boy had gone through. He himself had never been so badly wounded, and he had viewed his own pain as nearly unbearable in itself. Harry's bones were twisted in ways that didn't even seem humanly possible, and he seemed to be bound by invisible ropes that were tearing at his flesh even deeper than they had already been torn. His face was so destroyed that the only way he could possibly be recognized is by the amazing emerald eyes, which still barely showed beneath the shadow of blindness- one thing, Severus noted sadly, that had to remain with him even in death.

A broken body- so broken, so broken- but not a broken soul, Severus thought. He couldn't help himself from almost- dear he even think it- hating the boy for giving up his life so willingly, because he made it look so _easy_. Severus himself faced Voldemort more often than anyone should ever have to, and the fear of dying often ruled him. How had the boy been strong enough to go through with his own plans? Would Severus himself have been strong enough?

Ginny had escaped her brothers' comforting arms and had sat down next to Harry on the grass, slowly, gently, painstakingly wiping the blood off his face with a tender hand, careful to not touch his wounds but only to cleanse him of some of the filth. Such an expression of love astounded Severus- anyone else would have been wailing over their love's body, but this girl here- this strong, strong girl- she was living on in his memory, and caring for him even after death. Severus was startlingly reminded of Lily's death, and how she would have done the same for him had the positions been reversed- but he quickly shook that thought away, choosing instead to focus on the fact in front of him.

Harry was dead, and everything ultimately was lost now.

But Severus understood, and his heart was pained extremely when he realized that this meant Lily was really gone. No more would her eyes shine on through Harry- she was gone, and so was Harry. They were both gone, and Severus- the man who had only cried precious few times in his life- felt a lone tear trickle down his cheek, and the feelings he had felt when he had thought Harry to be dead previously returned. He had failed, once again- but this time it hadn't been his choice. Harry had gone on his own.

But despite himself, Severus could relate with what Harry had done. Lily had made the willing sacrifice real by giving herself up for Harry- and such a beautiful example of love hadn't gone unseen by the world. Harry had been protected many times by that very love, and as much as Severus didn't want to admit it he could understand why Harry had done what he had done. The horrible burden had been placed on the child- the weight of the world- and when he was forced to hang back in battle and listen and hear the screams of the ones he loved dying, it was too much for him. Severus couldn't blame Harry for that- screams were an every day part of Severus' life, but for a child so young to know that people are dying- it is crushing. Lily's sacrifice was an example to her son- and Severus hated it, but he could understand why.

But now Harry was dead. And as much as Severus tried to forget it, he couldn't ignore the feeling of pain, loss, and ultimately heartbreak. Yet another life was gone- yet another life that he loved.

--

"_Dumbledore!_" The scream echoed throughout the grounds, and from across the field, both Dumbledore and Severus winced. Carefully striding across the lawn decorated sparsely with blood, gore, and the horrible sporadic body, an exchanged look expressed their want to not be in this situation.

When they arrived at the line of people who were now formed into a circular shape, they were faced with Molly Weasley and her clan, looking both furious and confused at the same time.

"What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?" Molly spat out, her words throwing venom onto the man with each syllable. "Surely you didn't give the boy up for death?!" Her voice had rose an octave with each word.

"I did not, Molly." Came Dumbledore's simple answer, and Severus was infuriated at the way the man could remain so calm.

"He's dead, Professor!" Hermione Granger's voice came angrily from behind Mrs. Weasley. "Do you see his body? He's dead! This is no joke! He's _dead_, and your plan failed! You lost our only hope!"

Before Dumbledore could reply, Remus cut in. "And his eyes, Albus. Surely you have seen his eyes!"

"Did he give himself up out of own free will, or did you force him into it?"

"That was much too big of a burden for such a child do bear, Dumbledore! How could you put him through that?!"

"This war has had too many casualties already- and now we are surely lost."

"Our one hope is dead! The Boy-Who-Lived is dead!"

"He's broken, sir," Ginny Weasley spoke up, her sad eyes imploring that the two men listen. "You saw him. He gave himself up for us- whether by choice or by force- and now, with him gone, we will have to fight even harder. We have to fight in his memory now, and I think we deserve an explanation."

Severus would have said in a heartbeat that that was the best way of stating it.

Dumbledore sighed, a heavy, sad sound that Severus never liked to hear from his mentor. "Harry was attacked by Death Eaters two or three weeks back, and the attack left him hanging in a perilous place between life and death- his mind. With the curse he was hit with, he was forced to relive all of his memories- and I think it is perhaps not prudent but necessary to reveal now that Harry has been abused for his entire life by his aunt and uncle."

Chaos reigned after those few words, and Molly, Ginny, and Hermione nearly jumped on Dumbledore in their anger. Ron, Fred, George, Bill, Remus, and Arthur all looked disgusted, and a few looked to be crying- not that they would ever admit it- but the thought of Harry, whom they had all grown to love as a brother or son, being abused and broken by the people who were supposed to protect him- it was almost unbearable.

In between the women's angry screams and the men's fruitless protests against Dumbledore, Severus quietly asked a question that he already knew the answer to, but it would be the easiest way to reveal the truth. Dumbledore was too proud to reveal his own flaws- and in this case, Severus took it upon himself to do just that.

"Did you know of this Harry's entire life, old man?"

Dumbledore's deep sigh answered that question, and chaos resumed once more- but the part that lasted on Severus' mind was the sight of Ginny, falling to her knees and burying her face into her hands, looking heartbroken.

Beneath the fiery veil or red hair, she looked _so much_ like Lily.

--

_Harry woke up in a room that looked suspiciously like the place Sirius had died two years previous. He shuddered inwardly, pushing back yet more memories. That seemed to be the story of his life- trying to make the memories go away. _

_Looking around him, Harry tried to make sense of where he was. The large room was dark and strangely quiet, as if everything was suspended- but it was empty of its usual contents, which was extremely different for Harry to see. The only thing that occupied the room were himself- and the shimmering, wispy Veil. _

_Moving slowly toward it, as if almost afraid of what he would find, Harry walked in a cautious circle around the veil, finding no beginning and no end. It wasn't a circle, but it wasn't a square either, or any other shape- it was just never-ending, a constant, continuous line that was bent into the shape of lives. It was a tragedy, that Veil was- and Harry sincerely hated it, and wanted nothing more than to be far away from it- but he could hear the voices, and what was more he could see shadows._

_Harry backed away slowly when the voices grew louder and the shadows grew darker, and when a large bang sounded he threw himself to the floor and covered his head with his hands, simply out of instinct. He could feel dust and debris flying around him, but strangely, nothing hit him- it was as if he was suspended in his own little bubble, lost between time and space, death and life._

_When Harry felt it safe enough to raise his eyes up to look, he was greeted with something he had never thought he would see ever again. _

_Standing in front of him were his mum, dad, and Sirius. They were all strangely beautiful- as if glorified by death- but in their beauty, a haunting pallor covered their skin. They were disturbing figures- beautiful but broken, angels but demons- a mixture of both, a lost cause, stuck in the middle of Light and Dark. _

_"Mum? Dad? Sirius?" Harry said, his voice surprisingly soft as he stared on at his family, who were different now but what mattered was- they were _there_. _

_"Harry," Lily said softly. "I am so proud of you."_

_Harry found he could not move- but his desire wanted it, craved it, needed it. More than anything right now, he needed a loving touch, a kind word- but he was immobile, and he hated it._

_"Wh- wha- what are you doing here? What is this place? Why am I here?"_

_James laughed and said quietly with a chuckle, "Slow down there, son. This is the place in between death and life."_

_"Fine, but- but how are you here? I miss you all-"_

_"And we miss you," Lily was quick to soothe her only son, a wan smile gracing her pretty features, but pain showing deeply and obviously through her green eyes. "But sometimes, death makes us stronger."_

_"Is that why I'm here?" Harry questioned, looking confused. Both Sirius and James smiled. _

_"Partly," came the simple reply from James. "You're here to make a choice."_

_Harry frowned. "Haven't I had enough chances, enough choices, already? I always fail." _

_Harry's frown was matched on the faces of all three of his companions, and Sirius was the one to answer this time._

_"You don't always fail. You have never failed, Harry."_

_"I failed this time!" Harry exclaimed angrily, spinning around quickly in an attempt to hide his emotions. "Voldemort won! I'm dead, aren't I?!"_

_The silence that followed his question made Harry extremely curious. Turning around again, he was faced with three knowing smiles and sad frowns- a strange combination that gave the impression of both._

_"Am I dead?" Harry demanded angrily, looking at Sirius, who he loved the most out of the three because of the time he had had with him, and his parents, who he barely knew but loved anyway._

_Sirius sighed. "Look down, Harry."_

_Cautiously, Harry looked down at the floor, which had now opened up to appear transparent- but it looked like a window, with the scene below playing out as if a theater. He could see the rows of people, gathered in what looked to be a circle- and in the middle lay his body, surrounded by Dumbledore, Severus, Mrs. and Mr. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Bill, Fred, George, and Remus Lupin, among various others. Most of them looked to be crying- and the fact that startled Harry was how mangled and broken his body looked. _

_"Look- look at Ginny," Harry whispered, looking down at the red-haired girl he loved with a tender, sad eye. "Look at her cry..."_

_"Look at them all cry, Harry," Lily said, just as quietly. "They need you, but ultimately it is your choice. This one won't be easy."_

_Harry laughed at that. "What is ever easy?..." He trailed off and looked down again, watching his family- the ones still on earth- mourn for him and what was sure to come. _

_Could he desert them? Could he leave and stay in this place, behind the Veil, with his mum and dad and Sirius? Could he? _

_--_

**Please review.**


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

Ginny Weasley sat in the silence surrounding her soul, despite the noise that was echoing around her. Lying on the grass in front of her was a body so broken it was almost unbearable; lying on the grass was the body of the one person she loved more than anything else. Harry Potter was lying in front of her, and the very fact that her soul was shattering didn't even register every time she looked at him. The incomprehensible pain- the broken heart, the shattered soul that was cracking just like glass- it encompassed her until she couldn't feel anything else, until she couldn't do anything else except stare at him, wishing, willing that it wasn't true.

Ginny hadn't fallen in love with the simple image of Harry Potter like she had as a child. When she was young, she had idolized him- thought about him every day and dreamed about marrying him, falling head-over-heels into his arms and being happy forever. That had been her fantasy, and Ginny was ashamed to admit that now. But when she had come to Hogwarts, she had seen that there was more to the boy beyond the tragic but amazing past and the scarred forehead- he was a person, and he had feelings and a heart and she couldn't manipulate him like she had thought. Ginny would never admit now that she had been crushed that her dream wouldn't be as easily achieved as she had thought- but still she had an immense crush on him, and for five years she stared after him, wishing that she was his forever and always. Hermione had advised her early on to just relax and let him see the real her, instead of the mask she generally wore in an attempt to impress him, and she had followed that advice to the word.

When Harry had kissed her in her fifth year, it had been like a million fireworks exploding in her head. It had been magic and wonder and light and happiness and joy all at once- and not just because it was what she had always wanted, it was her dream- no, it was because she wanted that in that moment. Ginny didn't want it simply because it was her dream- she had grown to love Harry for the person he was, for his actions and his heart and the way he held her gently as he kissed her. She was happier than she had ever been, and it was an amazing feeling. She recognized that the world loved him for what he had done for them- but she loved him irregardless, irrevocably, and the fact that reassured both her heart and his was the fact that she knew she would love him under a different name, under different circumstances.

But now it was all shattered in a single moment, in a single glance at the one she loved lying in front of her- and Ginny was broken herself, and as she watched him bleed she swore she could feel her own heart leaking the inky blood that let a person live.

To tell the truth, Ginny wasn't so sure she _wanted_ to live anymore.

If it meant living without him- without Harry- then Ginny didn't know if she could do it. Harry had been her everything- and being apart from him for the summer had not been good for her personal sanity. When she had seen him lying in the Hospital Wing, blind- her heart had broken, just a little bit. She was trying, in her own personal way, to bear his burdens for him- and when she had told him that she didn't care he was blind, she had taken a bit of that pain away from him. But she had added to her own weight that rested daily on her shoulders- the truth was, she _didn't_ care that Harry was blind. It wasn't that that bothered her. It was the fact that he was lost now- he only had her, and no sight to guide him. Her heart had torn then.

But now, minute-by-minute, as she just sat and stared at him, she knew that her heart wouldn't be put back together, no matter what happened.

Everything was all over now- she knew this- but Ginny barely contemplated the fact that she would surely lose her life now. Harry was gone, and with that she had decided that her life was too. It didn't matter anymore. Harry had failed- and she hated to think that- but it was true, and now Voldemort had won. Terror would now rule. Violence would be the dictator, and lives would be taken on a whim. She had no doubt that hers would be at the top of the list.

Harry had given himself up, and when Ginny thought on that another fresh tear crept down her cheek to accompany the thousands of others that had already fallen. Harry had _given_ himself up- willingly- for all of them, and now he was here, dead. That was so tragic- that someone so young, someone so _perfect_, would be asked to do something so hugely terrifying.

Ginny cursed Dumbledore, the meddling, horrible old man, under her breath. He was the one who had prepared Harry, essentially, for slaughter- Harry had shared once with her all the manipulations that had been pushed against him. And when he had said so calmly that Harry had been abused- Ginny had known that, ever since her fifth year, but still- she had broken, and now to see him here- there were no words for it.

It wasn't just that Harry was dead. Harry was broken- not only mentally and emotionally by abuse and blindness and scarring and everything else that had happened to him- but he was also broken physically. His body was so cut open, bloodied, bruised, broken that he was almost unrecognizable, even to Ginny, who knew him more than anyone- and for her to remember that just the week before she had held his hand and kissed his blind eyes and his scarred forehead- the fact that he was gone now, and broken more so than anyone could ever, ever be-

A fresh sob escaped her, and ignoring the blood, Ginny let her head rest in her arms on Harry's chest, feeling her own chest heave with broken sobs as she cried over what she could never now have.

--

_A silence was all that followed, and Harry was acutely aware of his mother, father, and Sirius staring at him with both interest and worry. He knew they were waiting for his answer, but the truth was, he didn't have one to give._

_Harry was immensely tired of decisions, and he was frankly surprised that he was given yet another chance to decide the fate of his life. He had decided once to go through the pain so he could live- and he had ended up blind, but he had been with Hermione and Ron and Ginny again. And now, he had another chance to decide after he had been so badly broken._

_Startled, remembering, Harry looked down on his body and found that it truly was surprising that he could even stand. He looked up at the three standing a bit away from him, a question in his eyes._

_There was silence for a moment, before Lily sighed heavily. "Even this can't be perfect, Harry." _

_Harry slumped to the ground and looked down at his hand, carefully wiping dried blood away from his fingers with his other hand. It was almost surreal, seeing himself so injured now- covered in blood, and cut up so badly it was almost unbelievable- it was a tragedy, Harry thought. Because he knew now that if he returned, it would hurt more badly than even before- and he had thought that that had been unbearable. Harry didn't even want to think about what this would be like to return now._

_But as he stared at his parents and Sirius, he couldn't help but contemplate what really mattered to him now. It was a decision- in the moment, there was no present. There was only past and future. Remaining would be dwelling in the past; living in memories and wishes from before- but going back would be looking towards the future, towards a married life with Ginny and a life-long friendship with Ron and Hermione. He knew that would be coming, were he alive._

_Looking up at that, Harry couldn't help but remark, "I was going to be married." _

_Harry hadn't expected a response, but he received one at Sirius' laugh. "Were you going to propose, Harry? Good! Ever since I saw the two of you together…" _

_Still laughing, he turned to Lily and James. "I know you watch, but maybe you haven't seen it- they look so much like you two! Red hair, dark hair- green eyes, and the girl, Lily, she has your personality. They are perfect together."_

_Both Lily and James turned their smiles upon Harry, their looks delicate and proud. Harry both flushed and beamed under their stare, but after a moment he looked up to face them. _

_"I really am in love with her."_

_Lily smiled even wider, and then she sobered. "I'm glad, Harry. Everyone needs someone in their life." She then frowned and said, "No one is expecting you to stay, and no one is expecting you to go. You don't have to explain yourself to us, Harry."_

_Harry's face adopted a frown to match his mother's and he said, with a trace of anger decorating his words, "I feel like I do. I have had so many choices if I want to live or die- and now, when it hurts more than ever- I am facing leaving the world in turmoil."_

_"You faced that before, son," James pointed out- factually, not cruelly._

_"Yes. I did. But then- they had a hope. They could have prepared without me, and had a different defense or offense- but now, with me gone, they _have_ no hope. They believe their Savior is gone forever, and with that everything is absolutely lost. They will all die."_

_No response was given to that, and Harry wondered despite himself if they had to be quiet in order to let him make his own decision. That would definitely fit in with the cruel way the world seemed to be constantly operating lately- just one tragedy after another, and then here, when he finally got to see his parents, they were silent. Harry cursed everything for a moment before standing quickly, wincing with the dulled pain that coursed through his body. He began to pace._

_"I'm not sure, here," he said quietly, "what the cons to going back are besides the pain. I have to go back- how can I leave them all to die?"_

_Beyond that, Harry knew that he couldn't leave Ginny. He loved her too much. _

_Harry shot one last look at his parents and Sirius. _

_"Thank you for making your sacrifice for me," he said quietly to his parents, a small smile lighting up his pale face. "I'll make sure it wasn't in vain. That's why I'm going back."_

_Harry turned then to Sirius. "Sirius, you have no idea how much I miss you," he began. "When you fell through the Veil- I was lost. I'm so glad that I got to have you in my life, even if it was for a time so short as two years. I love you."_

_The magic led him then, and he was sucked away from the place beyond his mind, in the realm of death and life- he was sucked back into his body, back to a life of pain and loss but also one of love and beauty…._

_­_--

The area around her and Harry was quickly becoming more and more vacant, and Ginny wondered in a small part of her mind if everyone had forgotten about them in their rush and in their panic. Frankly, she was okay with that. Even though it hurt so much- so much it was unbearable- she wanted to be with him here. She needed to be with him.

Ginny hadn't moved her head from his chest and was still sobbing heartbrokenly when she felt a movement beneath her that was not her own.

Harry- who everyone had thought dead- had taken a broken, shuddering breath.

Ginny raised her head faster than she had thought possible and looked at the boy she loved with all her heart, who was gasping violently and looked to be having a seizure. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably, and his breath was coming out in gasps that looked to be barely sustaining him.

Ginny felt as if she was in a dream when she leaned close to his head and whispered loudly, "Harry! Harry, can you hear me?! Harry!" It was surreal to her. Because this couldn't be real, could it? It had to all be a dream. Harry was dead. Any person who saw him would attest to that, without even listening for his heartbeat or feeling for his pulse.

Another shuddering, broken breath wracked through Harry's body, and a rattling, gasping sound escaped him- and for a single moment, Ginny believed that that had been Harry's final breath- the real final breath, now. Now he was truly gone. Now it was real.

But then he took another, and another; and after a moment a scream escaped his lips, a scream so shattering that Ginny was nearly ripped apart by it- for it was a scream condensed of so much pain and agony that no one could even classify it; it was a scream filled with the essence of death and life all tangled into one, a decision to live that only brought pain; it was a scream made of want and longing but still a desperation for it all to stop- all that encompassed in one scream, one high-pitched note that was detonated with pain-

People came running, and they were just about to be surrounded when Ginny made a decision. She had been looking around wildly, not knowing what to do or how to help Harry- he sounded to be dying- but now, she did _not_ want others to be the one who helped him. No. She would be it.

Remembering the fire that was always present in their kisses and the way they both loved the other beyond their very being, Ginny knew what she must do. It wasn't just for Harry- it was for herself, because she _needed_ this. She _needed_ it.

Leaning down, Ginny pressed her lips to Harry's bloody ones, putting all her love and passion in that kiss- and Harry stopped screaming.

--

_The pain was unbearable, and Harry could feel his body wrack with the agony that was constricting him in its grasp. He couldn't handle this- he couldn't, it was too much- he had made his decision, and he had the will to live, but surely he would die from this-_

_Harry could feel a scream escape him, and despite himself he thought he was already dead. Even the biggest will and the biggest hope cannot beat pain in open combat- and here, pain was winning, no doubt about it. Harry was ready to let go- he was ready, for this was too much. He had always been strong- living through things almost no one else had to face- but this…_

_His scream continued, loud and high- he could hear it- but it was quieting, and Harry could feel his life slipping away, second my second- tick tock, tick tock- the seconds counted by, and soon, Harry knew, the Savior's life would end, despite his decision. He would die not by words but by pain, and Harry wasn't really sure what was more honorable._

_But then suddenly, something warm pressed against him, and in the subtlety of his consciousness he could feel a pair of lips against his own. From habit, even through his pain, he could recognize them as Ginny's- and he could feel her warmth and her love and her passion and her strength flowing into him, and he was strengthened by her love._

_Harry could hear his scream fading, and with a final shudder he laid still, Ginny's lips still upon his own._

_With great effort he opened his eyes through another course of pain, and he found himself staring back at pools of chocolate. _

--

"Harry?" Ginny gasped, looking at the green eyes that were now staring back at her. The crowd around her gasped but didn't move.

"Gin…" The shuddering whisper was barely audible, and Ginny leaned closer to Harry's face to make out his words. "I'm here…"

"You are," Ginny gasped again. "Harry…"

Harry sighed deeply, and Ginny was glad to see that he was beginning to get his breath back.

"I came back for the world… but mostly I came back for you. I did it for you, Ginny…"

Ginny's sobs started afresh at his words, and she looked up briefly to see that Hermione and Ron were kneeling on the other side of her, letting her take charge. She was grateful to them for it; but she was surprised to see that both of them were crying. Not so much Hermione, but Ron- Ron almost never cried, and when he did it meant something. This meant something.

"Harry," Ginny said softly, lying down awkwardly so her head fit gently into the cradle of his shoulder and head. She was careful not to hurt him, balancing her weight so barely any rested on his broken body. "Please, don't ever leave me again. I need you…"

Harry sighed deeply again, and the words would not come beyond, "I did it for you… I love you, Ginny…."

The sight may have looked awkward to those who did not know any better, but to Hermione, Ron, the Weasley family, Dumbledore, Remus, and Severus, it was one of the most beautiful sights they had ever seen. These two were so strong- for they both were broken, in various ways- but they were so perfect for one another. And the words could still be heard, even past the sounds of the battle restarting:

"I need you… don't leave me…"

"I did it for you. I love you…"

--

**Long chapter! And I liked it, actually! Amazing!**

**This better, better deserve a review. I swear, I want a ton of reviews for this one! It took me a long time! So ya'll better review! **


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

The beautiful sight was broken by Severus' choosing. He pushed his way through the crowd, offering pardons and excuses to those who protested his rushed manner. As much as he respected Harry's want- and maybe even need, Severus contemplated- to be with Ginny after his decision to come back almost solely for her, leaving such injuries untreated could prove extremely disastrous, even to someone as strong as Harry. And Severus knew- perhaps better than anyone, even Dumbledore- that the battle wasn't over. Now that Voldemort believed that Harry, the Golden Boy, the Savior, was dead, he would stop at nothing to take over and press his reign of terror down on the Wizarding community. Severus had absolutely no desire to even allow that event to begin.

It didn't take him long to reach the small inner circle that was surrounding Harry, and he quickly broke their ranks when Remus Lupin kindly let him through by stepping aside. Severus made a mental note to thank the man later- for what he was doing was truly important. Harry needed to be healed, and fast. As much as Severus hated to admit it, he still had a job to do- and as tragic and painful as that thought was, it was true. Harry _was_ the Savior. He _was_ the Golden Boy. He _was_ the Boy-Who-Lived, and he was expected to do it again. Having the child die from pain would not be beneficial- in more ways than one, Severus noted with what might be called a chuckle.

No one had noticed except Ginny and Severus that Harry was now crying openly- silently, of course, as his pride required, but the tears were still leaking down his face at an alarming rate. His eyes were turning red and puffy, and that was the only sign Severus needed to know that the boy was in intense, real pain.

Another thing Severus noticed immediately was that Harry could now apparently see. His eyes still held the black that was artistically woven in with the green, almost as if someone had worked it purposely to perfection; but the child was turning his head in such a manner that made it appear that he was aware of his surroundings. Severus was extremely glad about that; he still held quite a bit of guilt about being the person who had cast the actual spell that had caused Harry so much pain. Severus had never, ever liked causing pain- that was kind of ironic, he realized, because of his profession- a spy in one of the cruelest organizations known to mankind. But whenever he could, Severus would offer a quick, painless death, or a healing word, or a comforting whisper or apology to the victims of the ordered rampages- for the people were innocent, and they had done nothing to deserve the torture and pain that was being forced on them.

In the abck of his mind, Severus was still fighting with the feelings he had knewly found regarding Harry. The old resentment was still there, but it lie dormant in the wake of recent events. At first, it had been pity that had replaced it- not sympathy, but pure pity. Severus ahd felt for the boy who had been through so much. With each memory, even the good ones, Severus had been able to see the hidden pain in the green eyes, the masked glint, that had then only been tainted by abuse and manipulation- which was nothing to shove off, but compared to now…

But beyond pity, a different feeling was now gracing Severus' heart. The man wasn't sure if he even knew how to feel love anymore, but if the definition was a deep caring and even sense of foreboding possessiveness, then Severus would admit that he might be feeling it. The boy had grown on him- because beyond the very look of James that he possessed, Harry had Lily's eyes, and the similarities between Severus and Harry were still utterly undeniable. Their pasts connected them because of the disparity of tragedy and abuse, along with a lingering theme of always recurring pain; but further than that, Severus knew they were both stronger than either realized. Masks placed through fear and pain, accompanied with a real, true need for protection, were often proved to be the strongest because of the desperation in which they were created. It was a tragedy that that fact even came in to play in either of their lives; but it did, and the masks had proved to be unshakable, unbreakable. For now.

Severus Snape had thought he would never feel love again, in any form, but his heart warmed considerably when Harry looked up at him and said, "Professor… sir… can you make it go away?"

Severus sighed deeply at Harry's words, and after a minute he carefully wiped blood from the boy's forehead before saying, "I'll try, Harry. I'll try. Just hang on."

A moment later his wand was out, and skin was flowing together, broken links reconnecting and shattered ties joining again quickly at his words. Severus knew that his attempt at healing would not be as effective as Madam Pomfrey's would be, for he only had his wand and a few mild pain relieving potions that he always carried. It wasn't enough, but it had to be for now.

After a minute of working intensely, Severus became aware that Hermione Granger was assisting him. Her wand was also out, but she seemed to be using spells that Severus hadn't even known or thought of to use.

"Miss Granger," Severus said sharply, looking for a moment at the girl he had known for over six years. "Where did you learn those spells?"

Hermione looked up apologetically and smiled at Severus before returning to her work.

"I've traveled with Harry and Ron for a long time now sir," came her response. "if I didn't know more healing spells than I can count, the three of us would be dead twenty times over." Next to her, Ron Weasley nodded his agreement.

"Yes, but where did you learn them?" Severus asked impatiently, wanting an answer. "That isn't all Light magic…"

Hermione's smile changed into a frown and Severus smirked as she replied, "I find that sometimes the lines between the Dark and the Light can be faded… and in this case, the Dark magic is stronger. And that is what I choose."

Severus smirked even wider when he hard that, his face taking on a look that was just short of almost malicious; but inside, he was extremely glad. Hermione understood, now. Something he had always struggled with was really determining what was Light, and what was Dark; what was good, and what was bad- for the line was dulled, made transparent by the loyalties wandering forevermore to and fro through the gray. Severus himself continuously tried to limit his use of Dark magic as he grew older, for the cruelty that encompassed the Death Eater's every being was something he wished to escape. But regardless, Dark used _for_ Light can sometimes be beneficial, Severus had to admit. He was glad that the brilliant girl had thought of that, for even at her young age and low level of experience she was healing Harry's body faster than he himself was.

The circle was eerily quiet as everyone watched the magic in elated silence. The only things that were breaking the dusty air were Ginny's whispered words of comfort to Harry; Severus and Hermione's healing words; and Harry's soft sobs of pain. The rest of them were completely silent, waiting for a word- waiting for news. Except for the few that were immediately close to the five on the ground, the people had no idea whether Harry Potter was truly dead or alive.

Hermione and Severus both stopped at the same time, exhausted, and looked down.

Harry wasn't completely healed, but it was better.

Only a quarter of the scars and bruises that had covered his body were gone; but new skin was in its place, and the broken bones seemed to be healed just enough to allow a light person to stand. The boy was mildly recognizable now, and the scar on his forehead- accompanied now by the seemingly millions of others- stood out alarmingly.

Severus smiled, just a bit, before standing and reaching out his hand. Harry grasped it tightly, putting his small amount of strength into being able to help pull himself up. Severus pulled the small body up without any problem except a slight draining of his strength, which he promptly ignored.

Ginny immediately latched herself delicately on Harry's arm, and Ron and Hermione also gathered protectively around Harry as soon as he stood. Severus stood just in front of the boy, looking directly into his eyes and speaking quietly enough so only he, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny could hear.

"Can you see, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly. "It's amazing, sir. I don't understand it, but I can see again."

Severus nodded his assent to that, happy with the fact that some of his blame was now lifted off his shoulders. But then a frown replaced his thoughts when he said seriously, "You know this isn't over."

Harry frowned also, and the three standing with him followed in suit.

"I know. And I also know it has to be me."

Severus muttered angrily under his breath, and all the four caught was a few horrid curses and the word 'prophecy.' Harry grinned at that, nodding quickly at Severus. They both shared the exact same feeling, and they had discussed it before- this time was no different.

"Well then," Severus said firmly. "You know it's got to be you, then. But no one ever said you couldn't have help."

Severus' manic grin scared all four of them, and they walked slowly after the man, wondering what could follow.

Harry couldn't stand on his own.

--

_What had been thought to be the final battle had already taken place. Millions assumed Voldemort had prevailed, and now they would surely die. Tears rolled down faces and they hugged their loved ones close, holding their last memories to their hearts on the doorstep of what would surely be their deaths. Even those at the battle of Hogwarts assumed it was all over, and many fled out of their cowardice. But those who remained heard the news- that Harry Potter was very much alive, but very much dead at the same time._

_It wasn't over._

_The true final battle was more weighted- toward the Light, due to a crafty plan devised in the heat of the moment and in the light of necessity. No longer would Harry Potter face evil alone. No, he would have those he loved next to him, with promises written on their hearts that they would never forsake him for their love- and those promises were readily believed, for love can overcome anything._

_Severus Snape, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley stood at the forefront of the circle that had surrounded Voldemort's encampment. The others stood behind them, also ready to fight._

_The difference was, they were prepared to die. They were willing. They had a connection of healing and pain and love- those five- and they were willing. They were ready._

_They expected to die, but if they had to, then they would die together. _

--

**hehe (: You have no idea how evil I feel right now. Don't take that as a bit of foreshadowing, that last line. It was just… dramatic impact. And… well… maybe a bit of foreshadowing. This is rather short, but I had limited time and wanted to get it up. (:**

**I mostly already have the next chapter planned out, or at least what will happen in the battle, but the outcomes are still up in the air. I know at least two people… maybe three… who will survive, but I really need to get a few deaths in there to make it seem real. Any ideas? I'm open to suggestions… anyone, really, I will consider. Dumbles? Sure. Sev? Er- maybe, I'll think on that one. Keep going?? Suggestions! :)**

**Review! :)**


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

The wood was still dark when the circle began to walk silently. In a procession of people they surrounded the encampment of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but beyond their surprise attack doubt still lingered. How could they defeat the most evil wizard of all time, even with their numbers and type of attack? How could they even hope to survive when they were faced with utter despair?

Darkness was their shadow as they surrounded the wood, spells echoing throughout- silencing and shield- whose colors dimly lit up the blackness. In the forefront of the mess stood Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Severus. Ginny and Ron were carefully helping Harry stand; he was still too weak, and his body still looked so desperately broken that Ginny was carefully not looking at anything but his face. Hermione had tears leaking down her face, and Ron was trying to comfort her while at the same time be a support to Harry; Severus, however, was talking animatedly as it seemed possible to Albus Dumbledore, who was also in their little circle for the moment. Both Ginny and Harry were both strongly distrustful of the old man, while Hermione and Ron had less of a reason to be but nonetheless were still wary.

Harry was the only one whose face was set in what some would describe as presumptuousness or arrogance, if they only saw his features; but when you saw his whole body and how he could not stand on his own, and when you heard the whole story of what was happening, you realized that he wasn't being proud- he was proud. Precious few understand the difference- but being proud is only caring for yourself. Harry cared about everyone else- he was proud of them, and what they were doing, and himself. There is a difference.

Severus had caught Harry's eye once, and the gentle nod the boy had given him had been all the reassurance he needed. Harry was strong- that fact was evidenced every time you looked at his body- but regardless, he could not do it alone. Severus' plan was a good one- everyone had assured him of that many times. Although Severus disliked- even hated- feeling weak or vulnerable, he wanted more than anything to have no more guilt placed on him. Guilt controlled his heart when it was present- it was guilt that made him feel as if his world was breaking, guilt that crushed his soul until he felt he couldn't breathe. Succeeding was the main factor now- and it all came down to Harry.

Harry was strong, and Severus couldn't deny it- and in truth, now he wouldn't even try to deny it, for no one who knew the stories would believe him. The very fact that Harry was standing upright- with assistance, but still- proved that fact ten times over. The look of the child's body obviously showed evidence of extreme agony but at the same time extreme persistence- qualities, Severus realized, blended together perfectly to form strength. Harry had strength, and it wasn't simply the strength that came with being good at something, or being brave or capable or able-minded- it was more than that. This strength came from a good heart, a good mind, a good soul- it came from having the perseverance and will of the heart to be able to give everything up in an instant. Severus had a feeling he would never fully understand what that really meant- what the true reasons could be, how much the person had to love to be capable- but he had an idea from his own experience of Lily's death and sacrifice. Following her death his own grief, accompanied by physical pain inflicted by the Dark Lord based off a series of bad decisions, only added to his feeling of supreme inferiority, had prepared him for more extreme loss- his own death, ultimately.

But now he understood. Now, he thought in the back of his mind that he could grasp the feeling of having the willpower and strength of heart to be willing to give yourself up- and now, in that moment, Severus was willing. When he looked at the people standing around him- Dumbledore, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin, and most of all, Harry, Severus knew that he could- and most likely would- willingly offer up his life to save theirs.

He didn't know Hermione or Ron very well- Granger the know-it-all Muggleborn and Weasley the blood-traitor redhead, Severus thought inwardly, comforted by the small bit of familiarity- but still, as a teacher and as a man with a heart, broken of not, he could not and would not let children die if it was in his power to prevent it. Although Severus had never truly been close to Remus Lupin, he respected him for the way he treated children and because he was a valuable asset to the Light. Dumbledore was like a father to him, and Severus loved the old man- meddling old fool he was, no less- and despite the man's obvious, or perhaps not so obvious, flaws and mistakes that had graced his life behind closed doors so many times, Dumbledore was a good man and Severus respected him. When Severus had been broken, Dumbledore's strength was what he had relied on, and from that moment their bond had been cemented. Severus hated some of the things Dumbledore did, and certainly didn't agree with them, but ultimately he had a good heart and did want the best for them.

And then there was Harry.

There was no doubt in Severus' mind that Harry had to- had to- survive. He didn't even want to think any deeper about it, after that. He had to survive. He had to.

They didn't have much time before they could no longer hide in the shadow of the darkness. Severus had to admit that they had been lucky up until now- for he could see Voldemort and his minions vaguely from where he stood, and the simple fact that they hadn't been noticed and backwardly ambushed was amazing in its own right. But the time was coming- and, in the last moment, Severus moved over to speak with Harry. He was rather uncomfortable with speaking to the boy when Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were there with him- but they were holding him up, and Ginny was latched on to him so tightly that Severus wondered if she would ever let go.

Severus took a step and Harry looked up, his eyes widening. "Professor," he said, bowing his head a bit.

"Mr. Potter," Severus said, a small smile gracing his lips before he spoke. In his articulate brain, he was carefully arranging his words; were he just with the boy, he would state his points flat out. But as they were in present company, that was not the case.

Severus hesitated and then nodded once, sharply. "Always focus on the good and not the bad, Harry. That will get you through."

The boy's head shot up, and Ginny, Ron, and Hermione watched on in interest- blessedly silent, which Severus was grateful for.

Harry obviously recognized the reference to what Severus had told him in the dark depths of his mind, when time had almost ran out; and he took a shuddering deep breath, his green eyes carefully piercing Severus' black ones.

"I don't know if I have another chance in me, Professor."

"You do," Severus said, once again choosing his words carefully, trying very hard not to give anything away to Harry's friends. "You've been through more than this, and you have survived- by your strength, no one else's. You are not a pawn this time, Harry. This time, you choose."

Harry's eyes bore into Severus', and through his glare Severus could see the hidden pain that still resided behind the glassy orbs. They had been through this- perhaps not as deeply as they should have, but regardless, Severus had seen it all and Harry knew that. That had to mean something- it _had_ meant something. Harry understood now, at least partly. They had spoken about being pawns- and Severus had to agree with the boy. Dumbledore was the manipulator, the chessman in this whole game in which lives were the price to pay- but what choice did they have?

Severus knew that Harry, better than anyone, knew that there was no choice. The determination that sparked behind the pain was all that Severus needed to see.

He nodded briskly, and Harry's returned nod gave satisfaction to everyone. "You know what to do, Mr. Potter," Snape said formally, nodding again before striding off to speak to Lupin.

Hermione turned to Harry. "He's right, you know."

Ron adjusted his grip on Harry's arm to be more comfortable, and Harry moved in accordance to him. "Yeah, mate. You can do this. I don't get all the stuff about being a pawn-" –at this Hermione sighed exasperatedly- "-but still, I know you can win. We're right here with you-"

"-And," Ginny cut in, "You won't be alone."

Ron looked scandalized. "That's what I just said!"

"It's different, Ronald," Ginny said angrily, looking up at her tall brother. "Coming from a best friend and a girlfriend- it's different!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

Harry just watched the two argue back and forth over something so trivial until he just started laughing quietly, a novel concept, he thought to himself. How could he possibly be laughing when he was most likely moments away from death? The irony of it hit him hard, and he paused.

Hermione tapped his shoulder in that pause, and when he looked at her Harry could see sympathy- sympathy, not pity- in her eyes. "It will be okay, Harry."

Her words were interrupted by another loud guffaw of indignation from Ron, and Harry could recognize the look in her eyes- a look he thought he would never see on his studious Hermione. It was a lovesick look, a look of longing- the same one Harry knew he had had for Ginny, in the difficult times.

Harry smiled at Hermione, and he whispered through Ron and Ginny's continuous bickering, "Go on."

Hermione's surprised look quickly disappeared into one of realization, and before Harry knew what was happening, Hermione had kissed Ron hard on the lips.

Harry's closed his eyes as he could feel his body dropping to the ground; Ron's grip had failed to withstand the surprise of Hermione's kiss. Harry tensed himself to be ready before he hit the ground, for his legs were not strong enough to support even one bit of him; but instead of feeling a sickening crunch, Harry felt Ginny's small arms tighten around him, and he did not fall. Harry looked at her and smirked- once again, she had proved that her strength far surpassed his expectations of it.

Harry offered Ginny his own small, sweet kiss before they heard Hermione's _ahem_ that alerted the beginning of a rather awkward moment. Ron looked nervous, staring at Harry awkwardly as if to make amends.

"Mate-" Ron began, before Harry cut him off.

"Ron," Harry interrupted, laughing, glad once again that he even _could_ in such a time, "don't be a idiot."

"W-what?" The redhead spluttered, looking from Hermione to Harry to Ginny all in turn, exasperated. "What do you m-mean?"

"We've seen this coming for ages, Ronald," Ginny explained, sighing at her brother and adjusting her grip on Harry's waist so that he could stand and hopefully carry some of his own weight. His weakness still surpassed his strength in leaps and bounds, but he was stronger than he had been before, and for that reason Harry tried to help his small little girl.

"You've- you've known this?" Ron gasped, looking utterly surprised. At this, even Hermione had to laugh.

"You, Ron," she said kindly, slinging one arm casually around his shoulder and leaning her head against his, "are very blind sometimes."

Ron still looked surprised, and Harry was just waiting for another stupid comment. He didn't have to wait long.

"Ginny? You- did you know this, too?"

Ginny's look was all the answer her brother needed, but she of course added her own sarcastic twist. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a girl."

"Yeah, so?"

"What do girls do best, Ronald? Use your brain for once."

Ron's confused look was all Harry needed to shoot another look of exasperation at Hermione, who looked as un-Hermione-ish as Harry had ever seen her. She was positively glowing- and Harry was happy for her. He was sure that many people had expected her to end up with him- the Golden Boy, and the only girl in the Trio- but even since first year, Hermione had been his sister, and anything beyond that was extremely awkward. Harry wouldn't deny to anyone- even Ginny- that he and Hermione had shared a few gentle kisses in years previous, but they had quickly identified that it was way to awkward and just somehow- not right. It had quickly been broken off, and Harry had been greatly relieved to find that both he and Hermione were willing to forget those times, grow from them, and move on without the least bit of awkwardness. Harry would say now that their friendship had grown stronger from it, even.

Ginny knew, of course; from Hermione first, most likely, but Harry had also confided in her because his conscience had demanded it. He wasn't sure if Ron knew, but Harry had vowed to himself _long_ ago that he _would not_ be the one to reveal that little piece of information to his best friend.

"-For your information, girls gossip!" Harry tuned in just in time to hear Ginny say. Ron's face finally adopted a look of revelation.

"Oh- oh, I see. So Hermione told you, and you know then- but wait, that means you've liked me for a long time, Hermione, right? Or at least a little while?"

Hermione blushed but didn't move from Ron's shoulder, just twisted her head a bit so she could see him. "You could say that."

"Oh, good," Ron said with a sigh, putting his arm likewise around her. "Then I'm not just an insane idiot for liking you all these years."

Harry stopped listening then, choosing to let Hermione and Ron talk everything over and just enjoy their newfound relationship. After all, it had taken them long enough.

But his own thoughts wandered, and he couldn't help but let them settle on the upcoming battle. This one wasn't going to be any easier than the first part, Harry contemplated- for this time, they were all out in the open. There was no hiding, and there were no sacrifices. It was all or nothing now- and Harry's greatest fear was that they would end up with nothing. Death didn't even scare him anymore, and pain was beyond reality now- in the back of his mind, Harry was mentally repressing a scream. He had barely screamed throughout the entirety of his torture, and when he looked back he could only imagine the mental psyche that it had taken to accomplish that- but now it was all a blur. Harry had heard of repressing memories due to fear and pain, and he himself had experienced that already in the worst way- but without any warning, Harry could not remember everything that had happened in those woods. It was like a black hole, an endless circle- one Harry was seemingly desperate to get out of. But this time, there was no going back. And this time, Harry would be there if someone died. He would have to watch yet again as someone's life was extinguished because of him- because he wasn't _strong enough_.

_Not your fault, Harry._

Harry's head spun around wildly, looking at the source of the voice that had resounded throughout his brain. It sounded vaguely familiar, but the recognition seemed to almost be coming from a dream, or another life, or even a distant nightmare.

_Lingering connection, Harry. It's Severus._

Harry sighed deeply. The man had requested Harry use his given name when they were speaking- either that or _sir_- because they were on good terms, and it just seemed more natural in the flow of conversation anyway. Harry had grown to trust Severus with all his heart- the man had opened up to him in a way that almost no one ever had, and helped save his life, after all- probably more than once, just in more indirect ways.

_Never think it is your fault. That only brings pain. _

Harry thought about that, and eventually realized that it was true. Blame brought pain- but what did that realization do to change anything? Harry had to admit that most of the time, he wanted the pain. It was almost like avenging their deaths- Harry was the sacrifice, the one who paid the price.

_Stop thinking like that. It's not like that at all, and you know it. You constantly play the part of the Savior, always thinking about others- and most of the time, that is good. But you take it one step to far. You assume the blame is yours when it isn't. This whole mess, all the deaths and the suffering, are no one's fault but Voldemort's. And you are not weak because you did not stop it. You are seventeen years old, Harry. The weight of the world does not rest entirely on your shoulders._

Harry's returning thoughts that the world indeed did were something that set Severus off on a tangent, only to be interrupted by something else.

_No, the world does not rest completely with you. We rally around you, and help you, and are here to give you support. I know a lot about guilt, and it will only tear you apart. Do not succumb to it, Harry. It will eat you up. Please, Harry-_

The man's words were cut off, on both ends, by a loud scream of recognition and anger from within the circle they were surrounding. Someone had stepped into the open- the decoy of magic that had been planned, no doubt- and the battle would now begin.

--

The wisdom of having someone as weak as Harry in the center of the battle had not been disputed by anyone, but as Harry and Ginny clung to each other and threw respective spells at the oncoming opponents they were beginning to have serious doubts. Both were well-trained in dueling, and the many curses and hexes and spells that they knew between the two of them left many of their enemies writhing in pain or, in some cases, dead. _Avada Kedavra_ was seldom used, and if it was it was Ginny who directed the spell- for Harry, the green light and the dead look in the person's eyes brought back too many memories of his parents' deaths.

Despite all this, they were weakening, and the fact that Ginny was holding Harry- and her own exhausted body- up did not help matters. It seemed like all was lost, but the two never gave up.

Dueling and battling was taking place all over the dark forest, the trees lit up in the eerie glow of many different shades of light bouncing off their branches and trunks, bathing the woods in a twilight-esque shadowy glow that seemed to give off the essence of fear and pain in itself. The condescending nature of the dark sky and the almost ominous twinkle of the stars were all that seemed to be accompanying those either dead or dying; and by the light of the spells was the only way those alive could see. The shouted words echoed throughout the night, and screams of agony and anger were also companions to those fighting.

Many had already been lost, and many were to come. The Light side had lost track of the deaths, and their number was dwindling; but on the Dark, things were not faring much better, and that was the only source of comfort that Harry could draw. Both sides were weakening; numbers were falling on both sides; and perhaps, just maybe, the fight would be fair. Light against Dark does not always come up to a draw.

The movement of the fighting seemed to be a constant whirlwind, a never-ending circle of dances that could send shivers up someone's spine. Stepping over dead bodies and the bleeding ones of those injured was not something Harry, Ginny, nor anyone else on the Light side enjoyed; but it was necessity, for pausing to look and mourn would result in a death of your own. There was no time for anything- no words of encouragement, not even insults from the other sides. Screams constantly pierced the air, a desperate plea of mourning and pain and the want for a quick death that was almost never granted- screams wound a melody around the forest, wrapping in between the trees, their shallow tendrils making its way to encompass tears and pain until there was nothing left. The movement of anything nearly made Harry's brain spin- and when he saw a malicious grin in front of him, he knew that time was up.

The circle had led Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Severus, Dumbledore, and Voldemort all to the same spot. This time, there was no second chance.

--

_When Harry first collapsed, in the distance he could feel Ginny come down with him. His mind screamed NO- his heart wanted to let go- and his soul wanted to just die. Hazy fuzz surrounded him, and he could vaguely feel Ginny's hand stroke his hair- what was happening? He could remember seeing someone fall, and the pain that had overwhelmed him in that moment was too much. Was he dead now? Was this what death felt like? Was it such a cool feeling, but one of never wanting to let go and wanting to let go all at the same time? Was this right? Was this death? Harry could vaguely see, but his world was blinded once again. _

_Was the pain finally over_?

--

When Severus saw Harry collapse, and Ginny go down with him to try and comfort him and hopefully care for him, he could feel his heart pound loudly in his chest. Was the boy giving up? Or had Voldemort done something more, something cruel? But suddenly Severus saw the source of the problem, of the pain.

Ron Weasley was on the ground, his eyes blank. Dead. Voldemort had killed him personally, a side curse, meant as a distraction. It had worked. Screams ripped through the air, and Severus couldn't help but feel pain for the loss of someone so young. It was a tragedy-

The fighting between himself and Dumbledore against Voldemort had been going on for a while now; they were both panting hard to keep up with the manic spells and traps and ideas that the insane Dark Lord had created to use against them. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny had been busy keeping the area around them free so they could duel- it was Severus' intention to keep it so that Harry did not have to fight at all, and so far, that object had been accomplished. But things were failing. People were dying. Ron Weasley had died; Remus Lupin had died. Severus wasn't sure about any others.

Severus had never doubted that Voldemort was one of the strongest wizards in the world, comparable only to Dumbledore- but even he fell below that mark. Light magic was sometimes weaker than Dark magic- and Dumbledore almost never dabbled in the Dark, for it scared the man. Severus was one of the very few who knew that. Dumbledore seemed so calm as he was fighting, his wand swinging and his words ringing loud and true- but beneath the facade, Severus knew that there was a very real possibility that they would not win, and Dumbledore was beginning to recognize it. He himself was weakening, and even years practicing the very best defense could not prepare him for a battle with nearly _the_ Master of magic.

But when Harry collapsed, Severus was unsure of what to do next. Of course he had to keep fighting- what else could he do? - but more than that, the prophecy defined who it had to be. _Harry_ had to kill Voldemort, or _Voldemort_ had to kill Harry. That was the only way. It had been dictated long ago, and Harry had grown to believe it, and Severus hated it but did not deny it to be true.

But the boy was _so weak_. Not weak in spirit- for Severus knew he was anything but that- but weak in body, for being abused for so many years and then tortured nearly to insanity did that to you. Really, it was only to be expected.

Severus' momentary pause as he watched Harry was the only advantage Voldemort needed.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

The curse was hissed, whispered, almost as if it were a lullaby or a gentle song under one's breath. Voldemort's red eyes glinted with anticipation as he watched the curse fly, and the world seemed to be almost paused.

Severus watched the green light come towards him with increasing intensity, and it was like his life was flashing before his eyes. This time, it was _him_ death called for- not Harry this time, but him. Severus rested assured in the fact that he had gone down in a fight, instead of something weak. He had died facing forward, pushing on through the grim- and he had died for it.

Severus was ready, and in that time of slow motion he waited. Waited for death. He was ready to make this sacrifice- for Harry. For Lily. For the world.

But it never came.

Dumbledore had pushed Severus aside faster than anyone could think, and took the curse instead.

--

Harry couldn't even comprehend what was happening. Everything seemed to be stopped- suspended, and his own pain was practically blinding him. Ron was dead. Hermione was screaming, and Ginny was draped over him, sobbing as if her heart would break. Dumbledore and Severus had been dueling for what seemed like hours now, but really wasn't- and it all seemed to be going so fast and so slow at the same time that it was hard to comprehend.

All Harry had seen was the blinding green light that was rushing towards Severus, and his heart had jumped into his throat. _No_.

But when he saw Dumbledore crumple to the ground, his blue eyes now lifeless, he was speechless.

Voldemort looked elated, drunk on happiness and insanity. One of his mortal enemies was dead- and now, everything was surely lost for the Light. A cackle escaped him, and his red eyes gleamed.

Severus stood stock still, not caring. Dumbledore had died. _For him_. In _his place_. He should be the one dead. He shouldn't be standing here, while his mentor, his _father_, lie on the ground, dead-

It never occurred to Severus that there was still a war going on.

But Harry realized it, and he had pushed Ginny off his lap and struggled to stand on his own. Voldemort was still laughing, taken over by his own victory- and Harry was _angry. _It was beyond pain, it was beyond feeling- perhaps a slight wave of insanity would be the only way to properly describe it- but Harry was angry, and with his anger brought new power.

Harry struggled to stand, and when he finally accomplished it, his oppurtunity was crystal clear.

He took it.

_"Avada Kedavra."_

The fearsome green light swept through the air, and as soon as Voldemort's lifeless body hit the ground, Harry screamed, long and hard, unending and unyielding, painful and powerful-

It was over. Voldemort was dead.

Harry collapsed, and he felt consciousness leave him in pain, both physically and emotionally- but not before he saw Severus standing over him, tears streaking down his pale, pale face.

"You won, Harry. It's over."

--

**Wow. You know, this is insanely long. Really unusual for me. And I think I am proud of it. **

**What did you think?? I worked really hard on this.... please treat me to some reviews. Did it suck? Was it good? Did you love it? What did you think of the deaths? There will be more casualties, but the main ones were addressed. This isn't over yet =]**

**Revvieew? Please!**


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

_Over._

_Over._

_Over._

The word echoed in Harry's mind, and through the dark it almost felt like a lullaby, a song of peace meant to comfort him and take away his pain. _It's over_. For hours he had sat in that dark room- or perhaps it was days now, he had lost track- and sung that peaceful song to himself under his breath, listening to the repeated word until he thought that perhaps it was permanently ingrained in his brain.

It hadn't been a suggestion by his head or anyone else that he be left alone. It was just _understood_. Harry Potter had won, and now, he had to let it sink in.

When Harry thought about it, that really sounded like simply an excuse.

That's what it was.

But in his mind, the fact that the war- that everything- really, _really_, was over couldn't just be accepted. It had been going on since before Harry had been born, and ever since he was a child he had been a crucial part of it, and now that it was over- _all _of it- it was almost surreal, because it couldn't be real. How could Voldemort truly be dead, with his minions scattered? It truly didn't seem possible to Harry, and as he lay in the dark room with absolutely no light shining in, he groaned in both fear and pain- feelings he thought he would never experience again.

Harry had refused to let anyone heal him any further. At first, he had thought it was pride that was keeping him from allowing himself to be healed- but with further contemplation, he had realized that it went beyond that. The scar on his forehead had told many of who he was, and he had hated it for all the years of his life thus far because it brought unwanted attention. But these scars- these scars stemmed from something bigger, something more _real_. Harry had fought for these scars. Each one represented something, and Harry had spent what seemed like hours running his finger down each slightly raised line on his body- the few wounds he had broken open again, he had let bleed. _Let it bleed out; let it bleed…_ his mind seemed to tell him. _Let yourself heal_.

But Harry knew that healing went beyond his body. Even if he didn't have any scars, Harry doubted that he would be completely healed in his mind. All the memories were still there, and Harry knew they would probably never go away. Harry was only able determine between day and night because of the nightmares that haunted his mind for what seemed to be all eternity. Harry had always had nightmares for increasingly horrible times i his life, but this was the worst. For a long time, they had stopped or at least slowed- but now, with both what had occurred in his mind and with the war, they were back, and stronger than ever. This time, it wasn't just recent events. It was everything.

Harry wasn't exactly sure why he was locked by himself in a dark room, but it just felt right. Sometimes, when he sat there thinking, he wondered if the truth of the matter was that he was almost afraid of light. He had been in the dark so long, locked in his mind- and then most of the battle had been, ironically, at night, that Harry was, in the back of his mind, afraid that the light would leave him again. And that small fact was unbearable. Harry guessed it wasn't healthy to think this way, but deep in his heart he couldn't help it.

Another fact he had to keep from thinking of was that _Ron was dead_. Ron was gone, and he would never come back. The fact that his best friend was gone- the one who had been with him since on the rain first year, the one who had supported him through all the years fighting Voldemort- the one who had been there for him even when he was blind and weak- was _gone_. Never coming back. Irrevocable. Unchangeable. Harry almost couldn't accept it. He was in denial, like he had been for the entirety of his life- denial was his life, because if he wasn't in denial, that meant things were real. And this couldn't be real. Any of it. It couldn't be.

But it was, and Harry knew it. And that's what made it so hard.

A sharp rap sounded on the door, but Harry ignored it. It wasn't the first time that had happened- in the beginning, many times there had been knocks on the door, people trying to get in- whether to help him or just bother him, he was never sure. Eventually, they went away. But this one didn't.

Harry sat in silence, listening to the rhythmic raps on the door, that seemed to almost be set in time with his rambling thoughts- but Harry was pulled violently out of said thoughts when the door flew open, almost as if his own accord. The door had been unlocked for the whole time, and Harry had briefly marvelled at one point that no one had been smart enough to just come in- but he had been grateful for it. But now, someone was storming through the door and into the dark room, lighting it dimly with his wand, with no intent of stopping.

It was a moment of that silence before Harry was able to make out the person's face by the dim light. Severus stood in front of him, staring at Harry's face with a strange look of both anger, pity, and sadness on his face.

"S-Severus?" Harry croaked out, his voice throaty and hoarse from not using it in so long. "Wh-what-"

"You are being weak, Harry," Severus spat out, his black eyes seething with a certain amount of venom and his face betraying his true feelings. In the dark, he truly did look frightening. "You're allowing yourself to succumb to the fear and the emptiness and the memories, and it _will_ break you. Don't do it. Don't do it."

Severus spun around, his lit wand coming with him and sending shadows spiraling across the nearly empty room. Harry was seated on one of the two chairs in the room- Severus sank down upon the opposite couch, staring at Harry with the same look on his face. Harry still hadn't spoken.

"Please, Harry." This time, his words sounded surprisingly similar to a beg- and Harry finally spoke again.

"I don't even know what I'm doing, Severus." This revelation was said with a deep sigh, and Harry could feel tears pricking at the back of his eyes- but he quickly pushed them back, favoring dry eyes to talk about the deep stuff rather than being broken and crying. That was, after all, immensely preferable. "I don't know why I'm doing this."

Severus' face softened, but in his mind he didn't back down. The boy couldn't break like this- he had been strong enough through the hard part- the battle- and now, he couldn't get through the aftermath? In the back of his mind, Severus could understand where the boy was coming from- this, of course, was hard on everyone, especially Harry, but being weak would do nothing now. Falling apart would only bring more pain, both for himself and for others. Breaking down could only bring more difficulty- and Severus actually was worried that Harry would eventually become suicidal. He had worried about that before, but now especially- when Harry had been locked in a dark room for three days- the threat was even more real. Everyone was worried about him, and the press of course wanted a statement or something or other from the acclaimed Boy-Who-Ultimately-Lived-And-Killed-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The title he had been given, Severus thought, was a bit excessive- but he wasn't one to argue with people who were crazy enough to think up nicknames for those who really had short names in the first place. But the main part was that everyone was worried about Harry, and some were even worried that he had killed himself in that dark room.

"You're doing it, Harry," Severus said gently, "because for the first time, you don't have anything to be afraid of. And you don't know how to deal with that."

It took a few moments for the depth of Severus' words to sink into Harry's mind, but when it did, he realized the truth in it. He wasn't afraid of anything anymore- because there was nothing _there_to be afraid of. There was no more Voldemort, and there was no more death to see coming on the horizon. That simple fact was so amazing to Harry, because it _couldn't_ be. There had _always_ been something to fear. _Always _But now- when there wasn't anything to fear- he didn't even know what to think of. He had never had a life, beyond the war that had encompassed everything. Severus was right. He was still afraid. He was afraid of having nothing, now. Harry wondered if that was, truly, the scariest thing of all.

"You do have a life, Harry," Severus whispered, looking at his young charge who had begun to cry softly. "You do have a life left. Not everything is gone. You're not alone. You have Ginny, and Hermione, and... and you have.. me."

At that, Harry let out a sob, and Severus stared at him awkwardly for a moment before decidedly standing. In all his experience of being broken and having no one, there had been one thing he had wanted more than anything.

He would give that to Harry, now. He wouldn't let Harry be alone. For once, he would prevent pain instead of causing it.

Moving over to the boy, Severus held out his arms to Harry's surprised look. After a moment, Harry understood, and immediately lept up into Severus' arms. The older man immediately sunk down onto the couch, with Harry in his arms, resting his head on his shoulder, and let him cry. Harry sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, letting his heart out and his pain and his sorrow- he let everything out int Severus' shoulder, and although Severus felt awkward he let the boy cry. He needed it. That was the very thing that Severus had wanted after he had been broken, or his father had beat him, or after a particularly horrible Death Eater meeting. There had been no one to hold him. There had been no one.

Severus was surprised at the fact that he was very glad Harry had someone. Even if it was him.

"Harry," Severus whispered to the crying boy. "Are you strong enough?"

Harry cursed under his breath. That's all it came down to, ever. Being strong enough. There was weak and there was strong. There was dark and there was light. There was life and there was death. The whole world was made of comparisons and degrees. You were either strong or weak. Harry had once though there was gray in this war- a thin line between light and dark. Now, he wasn't so sure.

All the same, he knew he was strong enough. He had to be. He had made it through everything else. He could make it through this. He could.

Looking up into Severus' eyes, Harry took a deep breath. "Yes. I'm strong enough."

Harry stood up slowly and followed Severus out of the room, out of the dark and into the light.

--

**Sorry for the long wait. So much to do. Had exams, tons of crap, blah blah blah. :P. Anywayy, what did you think of this chapter? Please review. I'm not sure if I will be adding another chapter. What do you think? ...About another chapter? ... or even a sequel?**

**Review. I need your opinions :)**


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

**_This is, officially, the last chapter (maybe I'll add an epilogue, but I'm not sure). Anywayy, enjoy!_**

--

The girl had jumped into Harry's arms before Severus could stop her, and as Harry stumbled backwards in shock Severus made a move to assist him. But Hermione Granger, who was standing across the room, quickly shook her head in a subtle admonish and Severus took the hint. Harry deserved to be attacked, in a way, by those he had very nearly left behind- especially Ginny. Watching the child- who, Severus considered, wasn't really a child anymore- hold his small girlfriend to his chest was almost sweet.

Once again, Severus couldn't shake the thought of how much they reminded him of himself and Lily.

Shaking his head, the man looked around him awkwardly, and then slowly let himself out of the room. This wasn't his moment. This was Ginny's, and Harry's, and Hermione's- and, Severus knew, it was also Ron's. That death had not been addressed yet.

But the pain of it would never, ever go away. And Severus didn't want to tell such young people that- but deep in his mind, he knew that they were the ones who understood death better than anyone. And that simple fact was what nearly threatened to pull him apart. Children shouldn't understand death- leave that to the adults, was his original thought. But the battle had changed his mind immensely. He had seen adults fall, far easier than either of them had- but they, the _children_, had been the ones to win the war. That fact in itself was commendable, but Severus cursed the world that made such young lives participate in war and bloodshed, and eventually grief.

Hopefully, now they all could heal. What other choice did they have?

--

"Harry! Harry!" Ginny's persistent voice shook Harry abruptly out of his thoughts, and he smiled gently at the small body that was currently resting all over his lap. Hermione sat next to him, smiling her own sweet, sad smile, and Harry sighed. The war was over- he wasn't in denial about that. He knew more surely than he knew hell that the war was over, and Voldemort was dead. But so many other things had died along with the Dark Lord, and it was those things that Harry wasn't sure he could come to terms with. Dumbledore was dead. Remus was dead. _Ron _was dead.

Masking the heavy frown on his face, Harry turned his head away from Ginny and said softly, "I'm sorry, Hermione."

Her eyes were weighted with tears when she turned to him, and her fake smile was the only truth he needed. But her words shook him. "It's not your fault, Harry. None of this is."

Harry shook his head violently, so much that Ginny quickly reached up her hand to stroke his face and try to soothe him. He had to admit, she understood him surprisingly well.

"How can you say that? How can you not blame me? This is _my entire_ fault. _All_ mine, Hermione. Don't you see? If only I had been stronger…" His voice choked, and his green eyes became clouded. "If only I had been stronger, then Ron wouldn't be… d-dead."

Within a matter of moments, all three were crying, with no chance of stopping anytime soon. Because the truth had finally been spoken- the truth that all three of them had been trying to avoid in their own way, even if they hadn't realized it. _Ron was dead._ And nothing was going to bring him back.

Hermione had taken her place on Harry's other side, sobbing into his shoulder for the lost love she had just embraced but had always felt- and Ginny was crying accordingly, mourning for the lost brother that she never had a chance to save. For once, Harry didn't feel weak to be crying- and to himself he admitted that it was a novel concept. He had _always_ felt weak- in reality, at least in his own mind, he had always _been_ weak. But crying over a lost friend, a lost _brother_- where was the shame in that?

It wasn't hard for Harry to see that there was none. Ron _had _been his brother, and now he was gone. A young life, exhausted in a bloody war. Gone.

"He-he died fighting," Harry choked out, his hands slowly stroking Ginny's red hair and Hermione's brown. "That's- that's what he would have wanted…"

Hermione let out another, louder choked sob, and Harry pulled both of them closer to himself. They surely needed comfort, for this loss hit them all harder than even they could comprehend- but he himself needed that warmth too. Harry had already experienced that being left alone could break the mind, in more ways than one- you blamed yourself for everything, and convincing yourself it was your entire fault and you didn't deserve to live with your shame was actually quite easy.

"Harry, don't blame yourself. P-please d-don't…" Hermione's choked pleading was what convinced Harry. She would have never lowered herself down to that level if she didn't mean what she said- Hermione was a strong witch, perhaps the strongest Harry had ever met, and she was intelligent and sensible. Matters of the heart had always meant a lot to her, and Harry couldn't help but believe that she truly didn't blame him.

"Harry," Ginny's small voice came from below him, and Harry looked at her questioningly, reaching over gently to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. She continued. "We knew there would be losses in this war, ones that could- and will- either make or break us. Ron is dead, and we have to accept that now, no matter how much we don't want to. Nothing is going to bring him back." She sobbed anew, and Harry felt a fresh tear run down his own face. "But we knew that we call couldn't survive. Nothing's going to bring him back."

Harry understood what she was saying- but after she just kept repeating those two lines, he realized that she wasn't talking to him anymore. She was trying to convince herself- and that broke Harry.

"Gin." His nickname for her broke Ginny out of her reverie, and she angrily brushed a tear off her cheek in indignation. "Please, stop for me, love."

Ginny's eyes softened, but her anguish did not. "Why did all of this have to happen?" As soon as she asked the question, she saw something in Harry's eyes change. Harry could immediately see the regret on her face for asking, but he couldn't break his thoughts away for the simple question that ultimately meant so much in his life.

_Why did all of this have to happen?_

The words rang in his ears, and Harry could feel his eyes tear up again as he thought about all that had happened. It was all a tragedy- in fact, his life was a tragedy. He could be a play, for Merlin's sake. Just time after time after time, something bad would happen, and again and again and again he had to pick himself off the floor, put himself back together, and move on. And it just kept getting harder. He had lost his parents, but he was too young to realize anything of that- he hadn't even known it was a loss until he needed someone to lean on. He had been abused, and because of that he had been broken- but filing it away, and growing from it, had been his only choice. He had been brought into a world where the expectations on him were too high- but he had grown from those expectations, and when he looked back, he thought he might even be grateful. He had been a pawn- but from the war he had grown stronger than he could have ever dreamed of. And he had lost, more than he could count- but he had his friends standing next to him, and he had the Weasleys' to guide him, and he had Severus.

Harry's quiet whisper startled his friends, but he was still lost in his mind.

"Maybe, just maybe, you have to go through hell to reach the light."

Both Ginny and Hermione smiled, and Harry broke out of his reverie and breathed a heavy sigh. Maybe this all wasn't pointless. Maybe there was still hope. There was nothing to be afraid of now, and for him, it was a novel concept to live life that way. He now had the world in front of him, waiting for him to live and breathe and enjoy and laugh and cry and, eventually, die- but for now, all he could do was live for the moment.

--

In the dark confines of the crumbled dungeons, Severus found what remained of his desk and sat awkwardly down on the cracked chair. Resting his cheek down on the now-flawed wood of the desk, Severus breathed deeply and tried to clear his mind. It wouldn't do to lose your composure when what you had been fighting against was _finally_ finished.

It was over. That much was obvious. They had the bodies to prove it; Voldemort, and many of his followers, were dead. The war between light and dark, good and evil, was over. No longer was there an enemy.

Without something to fight against, Severus wasn't sure what to do.

All his life he had been fighting. Never once had there been a moment when he didn't have to watch his back, or be careful what he said, or fear for his life because of two words that could come flying at him in the blink of an eye. No longer did he have to pretend to be loyal to both sides; no longer did he have to maintain two personalities, and keep track of what was said and done in order to keep up appearances.

_No longer_.

It was over, and Severus couldn't help but cry.

He almost never cried, because it betrayed weakness, and if there was one thing that Severus simply had not been able to _allow_ himself to be, it was weak. He had never had a chance to fall- because if he had, then he would have been crushed and killed faster than he could have ever imagined. There had been no mercy in his life, and no room for mistakes.

But now, with nothing to fear, Severus Snape let his guard down for the first time in years.

He had survived, he thought, as a tear rolled down his pale cheek. He had survived, throughout the years of hell that seemed to torment him daily- he hadn't failed. He was here, now, with nothing to fear and only life to live- and surely, now that it was clear he fought for the light side, all charges would be cleared. Dumbledore had left behind a testimony, that only Severus knew the location of; if all pretenses failed, then that would be his next- and surely, best- option. He would be free.

_Free_.

Severus had always prided himself on his mind and his intellect, but now that all these years had passed he wasn't quite sure he understood what the word in itself meant anymore. _Free_. Not bound. Unchained. Nothing holding you back.

He truly was free, and had nothing holding him back. For once, he was unchained.

But not without a price, and with a sigh Severus forced himself to allow his thoughts to wander. He knew he had to grieve. He had spent his whole life grieving for Lily Potter, and it had taken him years to allow himself to live again without her- but now that Dumbledore was dead, a new chapter of pain seemed to be beginning. He was free now. But the deaths that were behind him wouldn't leave him alone. Dumbledore, his mentor, was dead. Never again would he be able to speak to the infinitely wise old man, or hear him offer those blasted lemon drops to anyone who came by. Never again would he see his spectacles rise over that crooked nose, or his startlingly blue eyes gleam with new ideas. Never again.

_Was this how Harry felt every single day?_ Severus thought fleetingly, and then nearly laughed to himself. How-

"It is." Two words broke the silence, and immediately Severus looked up and was on his guard- old habits never die, he thought harshly to himself. But shaking himself out of his thoughts once again, he looked up to see Harry standing in front of him.

"Lingering connection," Harry said with a grin. "I can hear what you're thinking, sometimes."

Severus didn't reply, but Harry took the initiative and came and took a seat next to him, settling similarly on the crumbling rubble.

"I've discovered something," Harry said softly, looking contemplative and thoughtful. Severus thought he looked almost comical when he did that.

"And what is that?" Severus asked, slowly, slowly letting his guard down again. It was very awkward for him to feel comfortable enough around someone that he would allow them to see him broken- but he had been strong for Harry, and in this moment he felt selfish enough to think that for once, Harry could be strong for him.

Harry hesitated. "I told Hermione and Ginny this," he said, again very softly. "They were crying over… they were crying because Ron's dead." The formality and finality of his tone surprised Severus, and in his heart he couldn't help but be proud of the boy. Acceptance of death was something he had never been strong in, but Harry seemed to be learning, and that was a good thing. It was necessary in their situation.

"And?" Severus prompted, his words breaking the boy's thoughts and bringing him back down to earth.

"Ginny asked me," Harry continued slowly, "Why all of this had to happen, and it set me to thinking."

Closing his eyes briefly, Severus reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. That truly was a very stupid question for someone who had gone through so much. He knew, deep in his heart, that Ginny hadn't meant for it to hurt Harry- he knew she loved him- but in all likelihood, it probably _had_ hurt him.

"I've discovered that maybe we all have to go through hell to see the light."

The truth in that statement shocked Severus to silence, and Harry watched him with his green eyes open as Severus tried to process what the boy had just said. _Maybe we all have to go through hell to see the light._ Sure, he had thought things like that before- but he had always thought his situation was different, that he wasn't really deserving of an excuse for his pain. Severus had always thought he deserved to be hurt.

Just like Harry always had.

But it was the truth. Things were looking up, and no longer would pain be a prevalent part of either of their lives. Never again, Severus vowed. Never again. It was over, and it wouldn't be coming back.

A small smile graced Severus' harsh features, and abruptly he rose. Harry followed in suit, wondering if he had said the wrong thing. But when Severus came closer and held out his arms, Harry eagerly accepted the man's embrace.

They had gone through the exact same thing in their lives- they both had been beaten and broken and cut open repeatedly. But neither had failed, and neither had been weak enough to break so completely that they couldn't be put back together. They had succeeded.

"Thank you, Harry," Severus whispered. "I really think we saved one another." Harry's impish grin confirmed that statement, and in Severus' arms he finally felt safe. _He's like my dad,_ Harry couldn't help but think.

It would get better- it couldn't get worse from here. They had gone through hell, surely, at different points in their lives. They had felt pain and hurt and they had cried tears through their anguish. They had gone through hell.

But now, they were heading towards the light.

--

**_And there, officially, is the end of Black Debt. I decided against a sequel. Sorry, guys- but many people pointed out that I really woudn't have much to write about, and I have to say I agree with you. Maybe eventually I'll post an epilogue.. so hang tight. I'll have to decide._**

**_What did you think of this chapter? I'm really proud of it. I tried to think of everything- how people would relate and all that. Sorry I didn't add the rest of the Weasley family in here, but I wanted to focus on the main characters. Hope you enjoyed it._**

**_Please, leave me a final review?_**

**_Adios!_**

**_-Rachel (sick-atxxheart)_**

**_: )_**


	30. Epilogue

"Uncle Sevvy! Uncle Sevvy!" The child's voice came from across the room, and Severus couldn't help but grin as he waited for the dark-haired little one to jump into his waiting arms. He had never, ever thought in a million years that he would enjoy, and even _want_ to, be around little children- but Harry's firstborn certainly did have a special place in his heart, that much was for sure. James Severus was his name, and at first the Potions Master had had a problem with sharing _anything_ with James Potter. However, he had gotten used to it quite quickly, even if only for Harry's sake. Now, the older man loved to see the child he considered to be family.

"Severus!" Ginny's voice followed her son's as she walked briskly across the now-crowded yard. "How have you been?"

Severus gave a generic response as he shifted James to his other hip so he could pull Ginny into an awkward one-armed hug. The general dislike that had been shared between the two had long ago disappeared, after a difficult apology from Severus. Ginny had chosen to see that keeping Harry was more important to her than hating Severus was, and so the strange family was formed.

Severus, after all that had happened, found himself content and slightly pleased with the irony of the situation he seemed to be living.

James had just begun to tell him a story that Severus was trying very hard to pay attention to, and Severus smiled down at the child.

Merlin, he was getting soft.

Severus would never admit it, but he had resented the title of "uncle" at first. Perhaps it stemmed back to the fact that he had never felt deserving of a family; he had Harry had had many long talks on the matter, however, and Severus had chosen quite readily to ignore his feelings of unworthiness and doubt in favor of ones such as pride and happiness. It all seemed rather cliche- but then Severus did have to admit that his life HAD turned out to be almost completely picture-perfect, as those _damn _Muggles would say.

Severus smirked to himself as he greeted his former students warmly, playing quite the little host as he graciously took their coats and presents for Harry. It was all a show, of course; but it was Harry's birthday party, and Severus had found out over the years that he loved Harry as his own son, and would do nearly anything for him.

Sometimes, the complete change in his own character was even too much for Severus himself. He didn't often take time to contemplate where all his hatred and sadness had went; instead, he focused on what he had. After Voldemort's death, both his material and spiritual possessions had grown in size tremendously, which Severus was very pleased with.

Not long after the war, Harry immediately married Ginny, to both Severus' and the Weasley family's excitement and approval. It was a dream wedding, even Severus had to admit- Ginny had looked gorgeous, and Harry had been simply glowing.

Severus had quickly swallowed back the lump in his throat when the similarities between Harry's wedding and that of his parents hit him like a knife in the gut. The redhead bride, the dark-haired groom, the emerald green eyes... it was like a perfect flashback, one that Severus chose to carefully ignore. It was Harry's, and Ginny's, day- and ruining it with his own emotions would be rude and unfair.

After their wedding, Severus finally had enough time on his hands to officially move out of Prince Manor. It was one of the best things he had ever done, at least according to him; he had moved to a moderate house on the coast of a small lake, where he could be in solitude and yet still enjoy the water and the sand when he wished.

Harry was a frequent visitor, and the only one with explicit access through Severus' wards. Hermione and Ginny both had access, but special approval for them to come through without Harry had to be given by Severus himself, except in the case of emergencies. Hermione had protested this rule countless times, to the extreme displeasure of Severus, but he liked his privacy just as much as any other man, and would not give that up.

It hadn't taken a long time after the war for Harry to open up again to both Severus and his family and friends. Despite the way he had closed himself off for the first few days after Voldemort had died, Severus knew Harry truly was strong- stronger than Voldemort, or even Dumbledore, had realized. The boy's many struggles in his lifetime had truly moulded him into something respectable; and Severus couldn't help but wonder if he had a part in that development. Dumbledore had once told him that Harry had an extremely large capacity for forgiveness, and the truth of that statement rang in his ears as he looked at the small child in his arms. Harry had moved through the pain and the tragedy that seemed to encompass his life, and the family that he had proved that.

Harry was now turning twenty-five, and Severus didn't bother to stop to think about how many years he and Harry had been functioning well in a father-son relationship. Severus thanked Merlin every day for his luck; not only had he survived the bloody war with both his pride and dignity intact, but he had also gained something even more valuable- a son. Severus knew that Dumbledore had looked at him as his own son, but the Potions Master could have never imagined the pride that one feels when they watch their child succeed.

Seeing Harry be happy was now Severus' greatest desire and wish in life, and he worked hard to achieve that goal. Harry, of course, had more than enough of his own money to support both himself and his family; Lily and James had ensured that, and Severus for once couldn't help but be grateful to his former arch-enemy. As much as they had despised one another, Severus had eventually come to terms with the fact that even though the man could be cruel and often arrogant, his biological offspring was worth more than anything in the world. He only wished he had seen it earlier.

Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, Severus turned back to James, said something witty, and continued on to the rest of the party.

--

Since the war, new forms of magic had been discovered that allowed for many people to at least say goodbye to their loved ones. Harry had been the main executor and supporter of the discovery, and it was he who introduced it to the world.

The new discovery was that a person didn't need to be still alive for their soul and personality to be painted into a portrait. Harry had seen many times the portraits of the great headmasters of Hogwarts in Dumbledore's office, and he knew from experience that they could be just as real and fiesty as their original character. With the new opportunities to make the dead of the war into portraits, families were reunited and fond memories were shared.

It all worked out rather nicely, Harry thought. The extreme guilt that had plagued him for the entirety of the war was at least a little soothed by the fact that the survivors could give their final respects to the dead- and not only that, but talk to them if they so desired on a regular basis. The portraits were placed in a war museum in the center of Diagon Alley, where thousands of visitors went every day. The logistics of the situation were rather unclear to Harry, but it seemed to him that the portraits were only available to speak to visitors for a certain portion of the day. For the rest of the day, the people of the paintings could travel through different houses, of course through other portraits. The situation was really rather perfect, and Harry was proud of it.

His name was boldly stated across the top of the museum- _The Light War Museum: Established by Harry Potter_. He had fought tooth and nail against putting his name on the building, saying it was not for his glory but for the honor of those dead; the only thing he had been able to achieve, however, was to stop them from putting _Established by Harry Potter, the Savior_, or _Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-and-Won_, or _Harry Potter, the Chosen One_. It hadn't even taken any money to influence Kingsley, the new Minister's, decision- he immediately understood about Harry's hate of all his fame, especially the hero worship that began anew after the defeat of Voldemort.

Harry had been quite relieved to not have his status up there- if he had to have his name, at least let it just be the _name._

Testing the portrait technology had rested entirely in Harry's hands, much to his both relief and fear. Choosing a person to paint first was extremely hard, as Harry's mind had flashed to so many different people. He could have his mother painted, for Severus' sake; he could choose Fred, for the Weasleys'; he could pick Remus or Tonks, for Teddy; he could choose his father; or he could choose Sirius, for his own personal reasons.

At Severus' urging, Harry chose for himself. The painting of Sirius Black's portrait was taken underway immediately, and the week-long wait was complete torture for Harry. What should he say? Should he apologize? No doubt he would have to explain the outcome of the war, but still Harry's thoughts were completely jumbled with both fear and anticipation.

Merlin, he had missed his godfather.

When the portrait had first been placed in front of him by a very proud artist, with a red velvet cloth covering it, Harry had immediately thanked the man and asked to be left alone. It took him a good few minutes before he picked up the courage to reach out and pull off the covering- and when he did, he was greeted with the sight of the one and only Sirius Black looking back up at him.

The words that came after that had been completely natural, and Harry hadn't been able to hold back his tears as he explained to Sirius the outcome of the war and all he had done to get there. It had taken his godfather a few minutes to accept the fact that Harry now had a very good relationship with Severus, and even looked to him as a father; but Sirius had obviously been able to see beyond the surface, and Harry looked completely content. It was for that reason that the older man didn't give his beloved godson any grief.

Their reunion was sweet, loving, and it made Harry extremely happy.

After that, for a good two months Harry became obsessed with getting portraits painted, not only for himself but as surprises for others. Getting a person painted cost a good deal of money, and although nearly everyone in the Wizarding world knew of it, many couldn't afford it. Harry surprised the Weasleys with a portrait of Fred, which had caused many tears and thanks from Mrs. Weasley; however, the most rewarding thing for Harry had been the look on George's face when he saw the portrait. His eyes had completely lit up, and he had immediately began talking so fast you could barely understand him; but Fred obviously understood, and the two brothers caught up and in no time were back to finishing one another's sentences.

Harry also had his parents painted, and their reunion was slightly more awkward but still sweet all the same. As time passed, Harry regularly visited them and began to establish better, more knowledgeable relationship; after that, Harry felt that he truly did have his parents back.

Dumbledore had, of course, been painted also; and Severus had meaningfully thanked his mentor and "father" for all he had done, and most of all giving up his life. The man had cried once again as he looked the old Headmaster in the eye and said for the first time in many, many years, 'I love you'. It really was a changing point for him, because after that Severus had been willing and able to open up even further with Harry about their own relationship.

Times were changing for the Wizarding World, for the better. Families and blood lines were being established once again; however, Harry's influence had firmly pressed upon the world that discriminating by blood would _not _be tolerated. Hogwarts re-opened the year following the battle, and the flood of students was greater than ever. Kingsley was a great Minister of Magic, and the corruption of the government changed slowly.

Harry, much to everyone's surprise, became a teacher at Hogwarts. Hermione headed the Department for the Protection of Magical Creatures at the Ministry, and Severus opened his own Potion-making business, and once his reputation had cleared he became very successful. Harry would have never expected it, but they were all happy, content, and moving on with their lives.

For the first time in what seemed to be decades, _all was well._


End file.
